Magic Muggle
by Doomchicken7
Summary: Matthew Mason lived a normal life, until the day when he found himself tumbling into a world of magic and wizards. He's enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, despite not being a true wizard. Two months into the year, things start to get dangerous. Alternate Universe. Mixture of original characters and characters from the books.
1. I: A New World

"How much longer, mum?"

"For the fifth time, Matthew, it arrives at nine."

I looked at the clock. Eighty fourty-nine. Why did mum always make us arrive early? We'd arrived on Platform Nine at King's Cross Station ten minutes ago, and it was another ten before the train would arrive. Twenty minutes, standing in this boring station, by this boring column.

Tiredly, I leaned against column separating Platforms Nine and Ten-

and fell-

and tumbled out onto solid ground. What the hell?

I got back to my feet and looked around. There was an old fashioned steam train on the tracks, that hadn't been there one minute ago. It was painted red, and the words 'Hogwarts Express' were emblazoned on it's side. The platform, previously fairly empty, was now full of people in funny clothes - robes, I think they were called - the kind of stuff people wore when they wanted to be Gandalf on Halloween. Many of them were my age, or teenagers, and they pushed trolleys piled with belongings. Some had cages holding owls, and a few of them had cats lying on top of their trolleys.

I turned around, but my mum was gone. I pressed my hand against the column, but it stayed solid. I pressed again, then shoved my weight against it, to no avail. The other side gave the same result when I ran around and tested that, too.

I was stuck here.

A few minutes later, a concerned adult ushered me onto the train. Their hat was pointed, like a wizard's hat from a storybook, and I was too confused and lost to explain my predicament. Onto the train I went, and I found an empty compartment. I sat down, and put my head into my hands.

Another person entered the compartment, shortly after the train left the station. A blond boy, similar in age to me, perhaps a little older. He was wearing unusual clothes, like many of the people here were. He sat down and greeted me.

"Hello."

"Hi," I said, then decided to ask some questions, "Do you- Do you know where this train goes?"

He gave me a funny look, raising his manicured eyebrows.

"To Hogwarts," he said, confusion in his tone.

I cursed at myself for asking such a dumb question. That'd give away that I didn't belong here, and then I'd be kicked off the train, in the middle of nowhere, on my own...

"Obviously," I lied, "But, like, is there a station right there or is it, like, nearby?"

"It's in Hogsmeade," he said, "You're not a mudblood, are you?"

The way he spat the word 'mudblood' made it clear that it wasn't a good thing.

"No."

"Well that's good. My dad's always saying how mudbloods are ruining things for us purebloods."

I nodded like I knew what that meant.

"Damn mudbloods."

He nodded in agreement. Clearly, I had said the right thing to impress him. Maybe I could befriend him - it would certainly help with the confusion and loneliness that I was starting to feel. There was silence for a while, before I asked another question.

"What's your name?"

"Malfoy," he said proudly, "Draco Malfoy."

"I'm Matthew Mason."

"Mason? I don't think I've heard of your family..."

"We keep to ourselves."

* * *

Over the rest of the train ride, I managed to work out that Hogwarts was a school. He claimed it taught magic, which I thought was cool. I'd always loved magic tricks - bunny out of a hat, card tricks, stuff like that - and a magic set was top of my Christmas list. I didn't tell him that, though. I met his friends Crabbe and Goyle, huge boys with thick arms and beady little eyes. Everyone changed into school uniform - a weird black dress over a more normal uniform - at one point. Draco sighed at me 'forgetting' mine. He gave me a spare set.

Upon leaving the train, I immediately noticed a huge man with wild hair and beady black eyes shouting "firs' years, this way". Draco elbowed me and gestured over that way. He was a second year, so we parted ways.

I walked over, and the giant led a crowd of kids my age onto boats. They were old fashioned rowboats, each with room for about four people. I ended up on a boat with a redhead girl, a strange blonde girl and a chatty brown-haired boy with a camera.

The boat sailed on it's own - weird, for a rowboat - and a massive castle came into view. I knew it must be Hogwarts. It was an impressive sight, towering into the air, it's lights like a swarm of fireflies stuck to the shadowy outline of the building. I wasn't the only one saying "wow".

We were led into the castle, which grew even greater and even more impressive with each step closer. The towers jutted out majestically into the air, as tall as any of the highrises in London. The castle's entrance was a huge set of double doors, nearly big enough to fit my house. They led into a huge hall, which was dominated by a pair of double doors - smaller than the previous set, but still imposing. As we queued, rumours started to spread about the sorting. Draco had mentioned houses - Slytherin for the best; Gryffindor for the brave, but foolish; Ravenclaw for the nerds; and Hufflepuff for the dumb.

We went through into the room, and I realised when Draco said magic, he didn't mean tricks. The ceiling was open, showing a beautiful, starry night. Candles floated throughout the air, the wax dripping and dissolving before reaching the ground. Four long tables stretched out along the length of the room, each of them host to lots and lots of students. For each table there was a colour - the house's colour, I assumed.

One by one, everyone was called up for their sorting. It wasn't a battle with a troll. It wasn't a magic casting test. It was a mangy old hat, that shouted out which house you belonged in. The camera boy from the boat, Colin Creevey, went to Gryffindor. The weird blonde girl, Luna Lovegood, ended up in Ravenclaw. And then it was my turn.

I didn't question why I was on the register. I just thanked god for that stroke of luck.

'My my," the hat said into my head, 'interesting. You didn't get your letter, but here you are. Go and speak to Dumbledore after the feast. He's the headmaster. Now, as for your house-'

"GRYFFINDOR!"

As I got up to walk to the table full of cheering wizards and witches, I saw Draco looking at me with disappointment from the Slytherin table.

I sat down next to Colin Creevey. The rest of the sorting went by quickly. The redhead girl from the boat, Ginny Weasley, was sorted into Gryffindor.

There was then a feast, which I wasn't able to enjoy. I was too busy trying to work out what was going on. Things had been confusing enough on the train, but they just kept getting more and more confusing. Just as distracting was how worried Ginny and her brothers were - apparently one of Ginny's brothers had gone missing, as well as his friend Harry Potter.

* * *

After the feast, we were led towards the Gryffindor dorms. When I saw an opportunity, I slipped away and started looking for Dumbledore.

The castle was insane. The staircases shifted at random, ghosts drifted through the air, and the portraits hung on the walls talked to each other and moved around. It was everything you'd imagine from a castle in a storybook, and then some. I asked one of the portraits - Sir Cadogan, apparently - where Dumbeldore was, and he led me through the castle, on what he called a 'brave quest'. I struggled to take in all the sights while following Sir Cadogan, who was moving at breakneck speeds.

He stopped by a gargoyle, panting. Could paintings get out of breath? Apparently so.

A minute later, Dumbledore arrived. He was an old wizard, and he looked the part, in flowing purple robes, a pointed hat, and a long, silver beard. He looked at me with curiosity through his half-moon spectacles. He was carrying the sorting hat.

"Mr Dumbledore, sir?" I said.

"Ah, you must be the one the hat was telling me about," Dumbledore said.

The hat confirmed his suspicions, and Dumbledore led me into his office, a circular room full of curious devices.

"You are not a wizard," Dumbledore said, "But neither are you a muggle."

He picked up a glass sphere, half full with black liquid. At his touch, it turned blue and started bubbling. He passed it to me, and the liquid turned gold and went choppy, like the sea in a storm.

"I'm afraid that you won't be returning home," said Dumbledore.

"Why?" I asked.

A pained expression crossed the old wizard's face.

"That, I cannot say."

He passed me a wand from a drawer on his desk. Unlike the others wands I'd briefly glimpsed, this one was embedded with tiny spheres, like the one I had held.

"This wand will draw on your energy," he explained, "You can use it for basic spellwork."

"I thought you said I'm not a wizard."

"You aren't. You are something different, and there are many out there who would take you, and study you. For your safety, you must use this wand. Pretend to be a wizard. I'll have your school supplies ordered for tomorrow morning. Now, return to your housemates."

Sir Cadogan was waiting outside of Dumbledore's office. Once again, I asked for his help, and once again, he led me on a noble quest across the castle. My wand was in my pocket, and so was my hand. When I touched the wand, the spheres lit up, and I felt power surge through my arm. It was an addictive feeling, and I wondered if drug addicts felt a similar thing when they took drugs. If they did, I couldn't blame them.

Sir Cadogan stopped, out of breath again, in a portrait with an overweight woman. He spoke to her in hushed tones, and the portrait swung open, revealing a room beyond it. The Gryffindor common room. There was a crackling fireplaces at one end of the room, and chairs, sofas and tables filled the rest. It looked like a really warm, cozy place. It was empty except for an older student, with a shiny red badge saying 'prefect'.

"There you are!" he said, walking over to me, "Where have you been?"

"I had to talk to Dumbledore," I said.

He didn't look convinced, but he decided to let it go.

"Well, get to your dormitory. Stairs on the left, first door you reach."

I headed up.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This story started on Reddit, on /r/writingprompts. It has its own subreddit, /r/magicmuggle. /u/captainwmh posted the prompt "One day a muggle accidentally boards the train at Platform 9 3/4 and must survive Hogwarts until the winter break." I responded to that prompt, and this story has grown from there.


	2. II: Early Days

Sunlight shone in through the windows, casting light across the room. The light brought with it warmth, and my eyes opened. I had just had the strangest dream, of castles and wizards and living paintings. I sat up in bed and rub the sleep out of my eyes.

The room swam into my vision, and I realised it hadn't been a dream.

I couldn't believe it, but at the same time, I knew it. It had been far too detailed, far to vivid, far too real to be a dream. That didn't make it any less shocking. Yesterday I was living a normal life, today I woke up at a school for wizards. It was all very overwhelming.

At the foot of my bed was a suitcase. I opened it to find it full of thick tomes, with titles varying from 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1' to 'Magical Me'. Another suitcase was next to it, and in that was more sets of uniform, half a dozen bottles of ink, and a collection of feathers - no, not feathers. Quills.

"We've got Charms first," said Colin from the bed next to mine.

"Cool," I said.

"It's taught by Professor Flitwick," Colin said, "Do any of you know about him? What's he like?"

"I bet he's charming," Jake Roan, a boy with messy brown hair, said.

A groan escaped the lips of everyone else in the room, myself included. I was tempted to check my ears for bleeding - the pun was that bad. It turned out no one knew much about Flitwick. Of the five of us, three weren't from wizard families, and the other two had never met Flitwick. We all got dressed into our uniforms, complete with pointy wizard hats, and headed downstairs. The girls from our year were already there, waiting for us.

We made our way towards the Charms classroom - our timetables had maps on the back. Of course, a map's only so good when the stairs are moving around randomly, and the doors vanish and reappear. That's why when we got to the classroom, we were late.

The lesson was amazing. I'd never enjoyed school before, but that was when school taught maths and english. Now school was teaching magic? It was my new favourite thing. Flitwick, a short man perched atop a tower of books, was a great teacher. He showed us how to hold our wands correctly, and then demonstrated a levitation charm.

The classroom was full of noise and energy. Everyone was swishing and flicking their wands and chanting the words 'wingardium leviosa'. The feathers we were casting at were staying mostly still. Ginny Weasley was the first to get her feather to move, when she made it wobble slightly. That encouraged everyone, and soon after Celeste Dawlish managed to get her feather to fly.

"Wingardium leviosa!" I chanted for the fiftieth time.

I swished my wand from left to right, and the spheres shone brightly, the liquids like the sea in a storm. I flicked the tip of the wand upwards, and I felt power surge through my arm. The feather lifted from the desktop and hung in the air in front of me. In my excitement, I lost focus and the feather floated back down. I was ecstatic! I'd done it! I'd done magic!

* * *

When I was eight, my mum took me to Disneyland and I rode Space Mountain. At the time, I'd thought that nothing could ever match the thrill and exhilaration I felt on that ride. I was wrong. Casting a magic spell had blown that out of the water. It had been, quite literally, a dream come true.

Transfiguration was equally brilliant. It was taught by our head of house, a stern Scottish woman named McGonagall. She was something called an animagus - a human who could turn into an animal. She demonstrated by turning into a cat. When she was a human again, she turned Jamie's desk into a pig.

We didn't get to do that yet. Instead, we were given matches, and we had to turn them into needles. It was a lot more complex than charms. Rather than one simple spell, it was several put together. First, a shaping spell to give the match the needle's shape. Then a material altering spell, to change the wood into metal. And finally, a sealing spell to make the effect last once I moved my wand away. It was very difficult. Colin put too much power into the spell and blew his match apart. By the end of the lesson, I was able to change the shape of the match, but nothing else. No one managed the full spell.

Up next was potions, taught in the dungeons by Professor Snape. We shared the lesson with the Slytherin - Gryffindor's greatest rivals. We were there first, and the Slytherins arrived shortly afterwards.

"Hello!" Colin said brightly.

"Eww," said a dark-haired Slytherin girl, "The muggleborn's talking to us."

That drew laughs out of the Slytherins.

"I'm surprised it's smart enough to talk," another Slytherin, this one a tall boy with slick black hair, said.

More laughter.

"Leave him alone!" Ginny snapped, stepping forwards, "He's probably smarter than all of you put together!"

"My cousin Draco told me all about you Weasleys," the Slytherin girl said, "Poor as beggars and breed like rabbits."

Ginny drew her wand, and within seconds everyone had their wands raised and aimed. I was trying to work out how wingardium leviosa could be used in battle.

"Fighting in the corridors?" droned a voice from the left.

A tall man with a hooked nose strode into view, draped in a cloak that was the same dark colour as his greasy hair. Professor Snape, no doubt.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley," Snape said.

"But sir," Celeste complained, "They were insulting her family!"

"Do I need to take more points from Gryffindor for cheek?" Snape asked.

"No, sir," Celeste said, dropping her gaze to the floor.

The lesson confirmed what I already suspected - Snape was biased. He grilled us Gryffindors with impossibly hard questions, and took points ruthlessly. He then gave the Slytherins easy questions, and showered them in points. He sneered at us and criticised our potions, then gave helpful advice - to the Slytherins. I left the lesson having learnt more about Snape than potion making.

* * *

In the dorms after dinner that night, I looked at my wand. The spheres of liquid were almost empty. Clearly spellcasting had drained them. As I watched, they gradually started to fill up again.

"That's a weird wand," Colin said.

"I know," I said, "Dumbledore gave it to me."

"Why?"

"It's a- long-"

The spheres were full. That was the last thing I noticed before darkness closed in and I fell back onto my bed. A second ago, I had been fine, but now I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and gave in to sleep.

* * *

The next day, I was still tired when I woke up. Not only that, but my head ached and every sound hurt my ears. Dumbledore had said that the wand would draw on my energy. He didn't say it would be so severe. I forced myself to sit up and open my eyes. Headache or no headache, I still needed to go to my classes.

I went down to breakfast and dug into as much food as I could get. I wolfed down sausage after sausage, egg after egg, and slice of toast after slice of toast. Filling my stomach helped with the headache.

"I wish we could try out for the Quidditch team," Jake Stephens, a boy from my dorm, said.

"What's Quidditch?" I asked.

"Only the _best sport ever_!" Jake said.

"How does it work?" I said.

I listened earnestly as Jake, with help from Ginny, described Quidditch. It was a game played on flying broomsticks, where two teams tried to score in each other's hoops with a 'quaffle'. Meanwhile, two 'bludgers' tried to knock every off their broom. The match ended when a flying golden 'snitch' was caught.

"... and that's Quidditch!" Jake said at the end of the explanations.

"Wow," I said, "It sounds awesome."

"It is," Ginny said.

Her brother, Ron, looked over at her; "When have you played Quidditch?"

I ignored the siblings to talk to Jake.

"Why can't we join the team?"

"First years aren't allowed to. Some crap about health and safety."

"Can we fly at all?"

"Sure, but only in stupid lessons..."

I had a look at my schedule. Our first flying lesson, which would be shared with the Slytherins, was just after lunch. I couldn't wait.

* * *

It was a sunny day. That, and the fact that I was about to fly, made my headache fade to a point where I forgot it existed. We were gathered outside of the castle, us first year Gryffindors and our Slytherin yearmates. We stood in two distinct groups, glaring at each other. The argument yesterday was clearly the start of a rivalry that would last a long time.

The flying teacher, Madam Hooch, approached us.

"Today, you will be learning to fly," she said, "This can be very dangerous, so I expect you all to follow my instructions closely. Clear?"

"Yes, Madam Hooch."

"Now, I want each of you to stand by a broom."

She didn't need to say it twice. We hurried over to where the brooms were laid out, and took our positions by one broom each.

"Hold your hand out over your broom, and say 'up'."

I did as she said, but nothing happened. Jake and Ginny both had their brooms fly up first time. Most of the others took a few tries. But no matter how much I tried, my broom would not obey me. A horrible thought struck me. I'm not a wizard, maybe I can't use brooms... I could hear the Slytherins laughing at me. Part of me wanted to attack them, to strike them down, to- I shook my head to clear them invasive thoughts.

"Just pick your broom up, Mister Mason," Madam Hooch ordered.

I stooped down, put my hand around the broom, and rose back to my feet. Unlike the wand, the broom felt normal. There was no rush of power through my body when I touched it. I hoped it was like that for everyone, but the pessimist in me told me otherwise.

"Now, mount your broom," Madam Hooch said, demonstrating, "Like so."

I swung my right leg over the broom, and moved it to the position Madam Hooch was demonstrating. Jake tapped me on the shoulder and whispered some advice, and I adjusted again.

"Now, kick off from the ground. Do _not_ fly off."

I bent my knees slightly, then pushed up. I left the ground, and for a second I was hanging in the air. And then- thud. Dirt rose around my feet as I landed heavily back on the ground.

"Typical muggleborn," the Slytherin girl from yesterday said in a stage whisper.

I clenched my free hand into a fist and stepped forwards, but Jake grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back.

"That'll be ten points from Slytherin, Miss Slater," Madam Hooch said, "Mister Mason, keep on trying. Not everyone can get it first time."

"Everyone else has..." I muttered under my breath.

As the lesson went on, and everyone else started to fly around, I got more and more desperate, until I had an idea. I pulled out my wand, waved it at my broom, and chanted _wingardium leviosa_. I flicked the wand upwards and the broom lifted, with me on it. It was difficult, but it was working. I was flying.

"Wand away, Mister Mason."

Well, crap.

* * *

"Don't worry about it, Matt," Colin said.

"I can't fly. At all," I said.

"You just need practice. I used to be awful at photography, but now I'm great at it!" Colin said.

"This is more like not being able to touch a camera without it turning off."

"Ron used to be that bad," Ginny said.

"Yeah right," I mumbled.

My mind was soon taken off of it by our first lesson of Herbology, shared with the Ravenclaws. Professor Sprout, a short, plump woman, gave us a tour of some of the greenhouses. Each and every one of them was full of amazing plants that I'd never seen before. There were mushrooms that hummed peaceful melodies, and vines that formed waving hands, and flowers that turned to face you as you walked. That was just what we would be studying this year. I could see giant plants bursting free of the more distant greenhouses.

At home, I'd always helped my dad with the gardening. I'd joined the school gardening club too, and every Thursday I would spend an hour after school ended in the school gardens: planting, watering, and re-potting. The specific knowledge was useless here, of course, but the basic skills carried over. I got the feeling that Herbology was a class where I could do well, and that excited me. I'd show them racist Slytherins that muggleborns can do well at Hogwarts too.

* * *

I missed my parents.

Of course, I wasn't the only one. For most of us, it was our first time spending long periods of time away from home. Colin was even more homesick than I was. What really sucked, though, was that I couldn't write home.

I'd written a letter to my mum, telling her that I was okay, but had to attend a boarding school in Scotland. Dumbledore had written a similar letter. But when I took it to the Owlery, things started to go south.

"Hey, Jake?" I said.

"Yes?" he said.

"Can I use your owl please?"

"Sure. Tawny one right there."

I walked over to the owl and held out my letter. The owl glared and, with a flap of it's feathered wings, launched itself across the room. My second and third attempts went the same way.

"I don't think she likes you," Jake said.

"She doesn't give a hoot about you," Jamie quipped.

"Clearly," I sighed.

"Use my owl, Matt," Celeste offered.

Her owl didn't like me any more than Jake's did.

"I don't understand," Celeste said, "She's never ignored a witch or wizard like this..."

Another reminder that I wasn't a wizard, another reminder that I didn't belong here. I was a muggle with magic, as weird as that sounded. I tried not to let it get to me. I could do magic! That was worth being ignored by owls and unable to fly, wasn't it.

'You're an imposter,' a small voice hissed in the back of my mind.

* * *

September came to a close, and the calendars throughout the castle turned to October. The sun was chased into hiding by dark butts, and a damp chill spread over the grounds. Classes continued regardless, and the trek through the cold and rain to the herbology greenhouses fast became no one's favourite thing. In fact, there was only one thing worse than it - Defence Against the Dark Arts.

For a subject with such an exciting name, it was awful. Our teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart, was a man with a long career facing the forces of darkness and coming out on top. However, that didn't make him a good teacher.

"Hello, first years," he had said in our first lesson, flashing a charming smile. "I'm Gilderoy Lockhart, but of course you already knew that. Three time winner of Witch Weekly's Best Smile Award."

He waved his wand, and question papers floated onto each of our desks.

"What is this stuff?" I muttered, scanning the questions.

"A quiz about Lockhart," Colin said, "to see if we've read the books."

"Yeah," I said, "But how is his favourite colour relevant?"

"Something the matter, Mr Mason?" Lockhart asked, walking over.

"Yes, sir," I said, "When I'm face to face with an evil wizard, how is knowing your favourite colour going to help?"

I lost points for Gryffindor for asking that question. The boys quickly forgave me, having all been thinking the same thing themselves. The girls, however, didn't approve. They all loved Professor Lockhart, for some reason. I hoped they'd come to see how useless he is sooner rather than later, but when I saw them swooning over him, I doubted that would happen.

"Who's worse?" asked Colin after another awful lesson, "Snape or Lockhart?"

"They're different kinds of awful," I said.

"You boys are mad," Celeste interrupted, "Lockhart is brilliant!"

"Here we go again," Jamie muttered.

"Lockhart hasn't taught us a single spell," Jake said.

"We don't need spells, we're eleven," Celeste said.

I tried to zone out of the argument. After every DADA lesson an argument just like this would be had, and there would never be a winner. The first few I had taken part in, arguing that Lockhart was useless, but I had come to realise it was a waste of breath.


	3. III: The Chamber Opens

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE_

The words were smeared on the wall, in towering letters of red paint that must've been at least four feet tall. Along with the flaming torches that illuminated them, they were reflected in the water on the floor below, with a demonic red glow. Accompanying the glow, was what could only have been the work of a demon. Hanging by her tail was the caretaker's cat, stiff as a board and deathly still. Her eyes stared blankly ahead.

Most of the school had come swarming out from dinner to see, standing at the scene, three Gryffindors from the year above mine. Harry Potter, famous for defeating You Know Who (a Dark Wizard who was so fearsome, no one could utter his name); Ron Weasley, older brother of Ginny Weasley; and Hermione Granger, the bushy haired bookworm. My first instinct was to suspect them, but I quickly pushed them thoughts aside. I knew Ginny well enough to know no one from her family would be involved in something so overtly dark and evil.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, mudbloods!" said Draco Malfoy.

I gasped. Draco approved of this... this horrible murder of an innocent animal? And, even worse than that, he wanted the same to happen to muggleborns? I could barely believe it, that the boy who had been so nice to me on the train, even lending me some robes, could condone evil. I had know he was racist, but to this degree?

"What's going on here?" What's going on?" the caretaker, Mr Filch, pushed his way through the crowd of students.

He reached the front, and his beady eyes settled on his cat.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to my Mrs Norris?" he screeched, before turning to face Harry, "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll-"

"Argus," an old voice rang out, loud, but without anger.

Dumbledore marched onto the scene, flanked by many of the school's teachers. He swept past the Gryffindor trio and Mr Filch on the way to the deceased cat.

"Come with me, Argus," he said, picking up the cat, "You too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger."

Lockhart volunteered his office, and led the way. Dumbledore, Filch, McGonagall, Snape, and the Gryffindor trio followed. Flitwick ordered everyone back to their houses.

* * *

Ginny was incredibly upset. Back in the common room, she was sat at the end of a sofa on her own, her face pale and her eyes moist. Almost everyone else was gathered closer to the centre of the room, discussing rumours and suspicions. I wasn't able to get into those conversations. The voice a the back of my mind was telling me that everyone was wrong. So instead, I went and sat next to Ginny.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She nodded silently, not making eye contact. Her red hair fell over her face.

"You know... You've got nothing to be scared of. You're pureblood," I said.

"Ron and Harry might get expelled," she said, her voice shaking.

I could see why she was worried. She'd told us all about the mischief them two were getting into - fighting trolls, smuggling dragons, defeating You Know Who... And now they turn up alone on the scene of the crime, so to speak? To an outsider, they were the obvious suspects. But anyone who knew them knew they were good people, who'd never do anything like that. And without evidence, there was no way they'd get expelled.

"I'm sure they won't be. I mean, they haven't done anything wrong, have they?"

"It wasn't them," Ginny insisted, "They wouldn't."

"It'll all be fine. Dumbledore's, like, the greatest wizard in the world, right?"

Ginny nodded. In History of Magic - a boring lesson, by the way - we had learnt about how Dumbledore defeated the Dark Wizard Grindlewald, who was basically the Hitler of the wizarding world. He was also head of the wizard courts, and headmaster of the only wizarding school in Britain. If anyone could keep us safe, it was him.

"Exactly. He won't let anything bad happen."

"Last year Harry had to fight You Know Who," Ginny said.

"He's gone now, though," I said.

Ginny shrugged.

"Go and get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning," I advised.

She got up and climbed up the stairs towards the girl's dorms.

* * *

Potions was our first lesson the next day. It couldn't have been more badly timed - none of us wanted an encounter with the Slytherins after yesterday.

"Isn't it a relief?" a Slytherin girl - surname Slater - said loudly.

"What?" asked another Slytherin girl.

"That the Chamber's open. We won't have to put up with mudbloods anymore," Slater said, sweeping her eyes across us muggleborns.

I reached for my wand, but Jake grabbed my arm and shook his head. Reluctantly, I took my hand out of my wand pocket and returned it to my side, glaring at the Slytherins the whole time.

"Shut up!" Ginny shouted, clenching her fists.

"You'll be got too, muggle lover," Slater taunted.

In a flash, Ginny whipped out her wand and aimed at Slater. She waved it and shouted a spell I'd never heard before. A bolt of purple light flew into Slater's face before she could defend herself. Bogies burst from her nose, rapidly growing in size, propelled by miniature bat wings. The bat-bogies swarmed Slater's face. She screeched and stumbled backwards, swiping at them to protect her face.

The rest of the Slytherins were drawing the wands in defence of their classmates. I drew my wand and soon minor hexes were flying through the air, ricocheting off of each other and the walls. A dull grey bolt flew straight for me-

and I hurled myself to the side, out of it's way-

and right into Professor Snape.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," he snarled at me, then looked up at the chaos.

"Wands away," he said, voice taking a more dangerous tone, "or it will be fifty points from each of you."

The wands were put away quickly. Half of the class had been hit by curses. One Slytherin was on the floor, his legs flopping about wildly every time he tried to stand up. Colin's teeth had grown massively, forcing his mouth open due to their sheer size. Slater was still struggling with the bat-bogies, while Celeste's face was covered in magical warts. Snape applied the counter-curses.

"If there is any more of this fighting, there will be... consequences," said Snape, "Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," we all chanted.

I was glad Snape hadn't taken more points from Gryffindor. Then again, he'd have had to have taken from Slytherin too, and if there was one thing Snape hated, it was taking points from Slytherin. That, and washing his hair. Therefore, he never did either of them.

"Jake, do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?" I asked my class partner.

"A bit," he said, "Growing up, I heard a few stories about it. Basically, when Slytherin had a falling out with the other founders of Hogwarts, he built the chamber. He put some kind of horrible monster inside of it, so that his rightful heir could use it to 'purify' the school."

"Purify?"

"Get rid of all the muggleborns."

"That's so racist," I said, chopping some roots and dropping them into the potion.

"Yes it is. But that's Slytherin, isn't it? He left the school because muggleborns were allowed, and his racism has passed down to everyone in Slytherin."

The potion bubbled angrily, reflecting Jake's tone of voice.

"Mr Mason, Mr Stephens. What do you call this?" Snape asked, swooping over like a bat.

"I don't usually give my potions names, sir. Only humans," I said.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek," he said, turning his attention to my potion, "Did you, by any chance, add the roots before the sap?"

"Yes, sir," said Jake before I could lose us any points with a scathing remark.

"You can both read, and the instructions are on the board. And yet, you fail. Perplexing."

I waited until Snape was gone, then mumbled insults under my breath. Jake added a few of his own.

* * *

Ink spread across the parchment as my quill scratched away, inking out line after line of text. Snape, the nob, wanted four inches of parchment about beozars, and he wanted it tomorrow. He'd given us a week to complete the homework, but, naturally, I had left it until the last moment. Jake and I were both in the library, desperately trying to get the work finished before our potions lesson the next morning.

I looked at Jake through the stack of books we were using for reference. He hadn't managed to write any more than I had. An expression of frustration was plastered onto his face, and I probably looked similar. The main thing I had learnt from this was that I hated goats and the stupid bloody beozars in their stomachs.

"Why did we leave it so late?" I asked.

"I dunno," sighed Jake.

I looked back to my parchment, but was distracted by the sound of rapid footsteps. A second later, Jamie came sprinting into the library, flying past the librarian and straight up to our table.

"Matt, Jake, come quick," he panted, "It's Colin."

With no further explanation, he turned back the way he came and set off again. I put the lid onto my inkwell, shoved everything into my bag, and followed him, Jake hot on my heels. We caught up to Jamie quickly, and he led us towards the hospital wing. The rest of the Gryffindors from our year were already there, gathered around a bed. Ginny was crying. Jamie, Jake and I reached the bed.

Colin was lying there, stiff as a board. His arms were raised, as though he was holding his camera, but it was nowhere to be seen. His eyes were open and unblinking.

"What happened?" Jake asked.

"He was petrified," Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, said.

"What?" I said.

"He's frozen like that until we can cure him," she said.

"How long-"

"By the end of the school year."

I looked down at my friend, and prayed for the cure to come sooner.


	4. IV: The Winter Term

Without Colin around, it was quiet. He had always been the noisiest one of us, the most talkative one of us. Now he was gone, there was a large, silent hole where he would usually be. Every silence that otherwise would have felt normal was oppressive.

For example, the silence that reigned as we walked towards our Herbology lesson, the day after Colin was attacked.

"Any of you hear that the Chudley Cannons won last night?" Jake said halfheartedly, "I almost dropped dead from the shock."

There was a pause.

"Who against?" I asked, trying to fill the silence with noise. I didn't care for the answer, or for anything to do with Quidditch.

"Caerphilly Catapults," Jake said.

We left the castle through a side doorway, and followed the path through the school's gardens. Flowers of every colour waved in the wind, like a rainbow reflected in the waves of the sea. It was a very peaceful place, and it didn't fit at all with the sombre mood in the castle. The path eventually turned a corner of the castle, opening out into the grounds.

The second year class was leaving the greenhouses as we arrived. One of them broke off from the group and approached us, and two of his friends followed. As they got closer, I recognised them as Ron Weasley and his two friends, Harry and Hermione. I didn't think I'd ever seen them three separate from each other.

"We heard the Heir got Colin," Ron said.

Jake nodded, while Ginny sniffed and looked at her feet.

"Ron!" hissed Hermione under her breath, "So tactless."

She then turned to talk to us.

"We're repotting Mandrakes in class. They're used in the potion that can cure Colin, and they'll be ready before the end of the year. School year, that is."

"Why can't we just buy some grown ones?" I asked the question that was on everyone's hands.

"Well- I don't think there _are_ any. They're not exactly nice to grow, are they? So no one bothers with them - other than Hogwarts, of course," Hermione said.

"Thank you for telling us," Celeste said after a few moments of silence.

"You're welcome," Hermione said.

We went into the greenhouse with higher spirits than we had approached it with.

* * *

"I swear, the castle's layout changes every day..." I complained.

Getting lost in Hogwarts was easily done. To say the castle was huge would be stating the obvious. It towered far into the air, its many towers just adding to its height. Each floor was packed with twisting, turning corridors, leading to distant rooms. I imagined a map of the castle would look more like an artist's illustration of a spiderweb, with the number of corridors all throughout the building. It made the seemingly simple task of getting from the library to the great hall into an epic, Tolkien-esque quest.

"It does," said Jake.

"Well that's stupid," I said, "Who ever thought that was a good idea?"

"The same people who built the Chamber of Secrets," Jake said, "Didn't think it through, did they?"

"Why hasn't anyone ever gone into the Chamber and killed the monster? Like the wizard police?" I said.

"Wizard police? Aurors, mate," Jake laughed, "Anyway, no one knew it was real until just now. Of course, everyone had heard of it, but we all thought it was just a bedtime story, you know, like the one with the brothers who cheated death."

"We know it's real now though," I said, "Why has nothing been done about it?"

"We don't know where it is. What can we do? Even the ghosts don't know - trust me, I asked them," Jake said.

I stopped, surprised.

"The ghosts talked to you?" I asked.

"Yeah, and?" Jake said with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

"They never talk to me," I said.

"Probably scared off by your stench," Jake teased, sticking his tongue out.

"Oi!" I said, punching his arm.

"I'm kidding, mate."

As we were walking, it started to dawn on me why the ghosts wouldn't talk to me. I wasn't a wizard. I never got used to thinking that. I was doing magic - how was I not a wizard? It couldn't just be the wand - after all, it was me charging the wand. So I was able to do magic, and it was me doing it. Yet for some reason the ghosts, the flying broomsticks, the magical delivery owls - all regarded me as a muggle. It was confusing, and often frustrating. But I'd take it over no magic at all.

 _"Kill... Rip... Tear..."_

I stopped suddenly, reaching for my wand.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Kill, rip, tear, in a hissing voice."

"No," Jake said, furrowing his eyebrows and moving his hand towards his pocket.

I kept my wand raised and looked around, heart thundering in my chest.

"Relax, Matt," said Jake after a few seconds of silence, "Probably just the Weasley twins playing a prank on you."

That made sense. The twins were notorious pranksters, and recently they had been doing monster-related pranks in honour of the Chamber of Secrets. They'd cover themselves in fur and boils, them jump out at us from around corners roaring and screeching. It was in bad taste, but there was no malice in it - although continuing despite how upset it made Ginny was out of order.

"You think?" I asked.

"Sure. You know what they're like," Jake said.

I relaxed.

* * *

The latest rumour going around the school was that Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin.

Harry Potter, a Gryffindor. Heir of Slytherin.

I didn't believe it, and couldn't believe how anyone could. Surely the Heir of Slytherin had to be a Slytherin? Apparently, though, such logic was in short supply in the Wizarding world, and the whole school now hated Harry Potter.

There was evidence for him being the heir. In duelling club, he had spoken to a snake that had been attacking a pupil. People said he egged it on, but to me it looked more like he was telling it to back off - and in the end, everything had been fine. The snake hadn't bit anyone. He had also been the first one on the scene when it was opened. But that was very flimsy evidence to hate someone on, and so I didn't buy in to the whole 'let's hate on Harry' thing.

Between that dumb rumour, and endless talk of Quidditch, I was getting bored. I missed being at home, when the most scandalous rumours were the neighbours wanting a divorce, and the sports results were for football teams. I missed my friends, who I would hang out with every day. I missed my bedroom, with my own bed and the privacy I had. Most of all, though, I missed my parents. My mum's great cooking and my dad's awful jokes. My mum's helpful advice and my dad's useless 'when I was your age' stories. Everything about them, really.

"Matt, are you alright?" Jake asked.

We were sitting around a table in the common room - Jake, Jamie, a boy named Toby, and me.

"I'm fine," I said, "I just miss home."

"Winter break's coming soon," Jamie said, "Go home then."

He was right. It was almost Christmas, which meant it was almost time for the mid-year holiday.

"I know. I will," I sighed.

"Problem solved," Jamie said, leaning back in his chair.

"Why'd ya even wanna go home?" Toby asked, "It's amazing here! We get to do magic, what more can ya want?"

"I miss my parents," I said, ignoring Jamie's mutter of 'mummy's boy'.

"Oh, right, ya can't write to them can ya?" Toby said, nodding his head, "The owls hate ya. That must suck."

"It does."

"Chin up buddy, ya get to see them soon and talk to them, and that's better'n any owl."

"Bring a ball back with you," Jamie said, leaning forwards again, "We need to show this lot footie."

That brought a smile to my face. It had been too long since I'd played football. The only sport mentioned here was Quidditch, which to me was only a painful reminder that I couldn't fly - as if I could ever forget that disappointment.

"I don't see what's so good about this 'football'. Ya can't even fly when ya playin' it," Toby said.

"Trust me," I said, "One game and you'll fall in love with it."

"We'll see, won't we?"

"We will."

"Speaking of games - anyone up for some wizard's chess?" Jake asked, gesturing to the set he had brought down from the dorms earlier.

Wizard's Chess was very interesting. It was identical to muggle Chess in terms of the rules, but the difference was the pieces. Whereas muggle Chess used inanimate figurines, Wizard's Chess used pieces which were alive. They gave advice to the player, or hurled abuse at them, as they marched across the board as instructed to. People would usually have their own set, because it was far more fun if your pieces trusted you. Not only was it interesting, it was kind of scary. The pieces were alive. They had thoughts, clearly - and their fear of being taken and anger at bad players showed they had feelings. So was it right to enslave them (even though they wanted it) and use them as toys? I forgot them thoughts as I watched Jake's pieces smash through Toby's for an easy win. If there was one thing Toby was awful at, it was chess. That, and pronouncing his words properly.

I was offered a go, but I turned it down. I had the feeling that the chess pieces would treat me the same way as flying broomsticks, and didn't want to be embarrassed once again. Instead, I sat back and looked forwards to bringing a ball to Hogwarts and embarrassing the wizards with my footie skills.


	5. V: The Journey Home

I'd never been good at lying to my parents. That was worrying, considering I would soon have to tell them the greatest lie I would ever tell. I had to tell them that I suffered from an incredibly rare disease called Tylor's Syndrome, and that I was now attending a boarding school in Scotland where I would be treated. As crazy as that sounded, it made more sense than the truth did. I could do magic, but wasn't a wizard.

The train was leaving in an hour. It would take several hours to get to London, and my dad would pick me up and drive me home. There would be no talking then - he hated talking while driving. Although, his curiosity might make him change his stance on that... Then, I would finally get home, and the questions about why I had to go to this school in Scotland would begin, and I would respond by letting the lying begin. It almosted ruined my excitement for seeing my parents and home again. Almost, but not quite.

As I waited, my mind went back to my second meeting with Dumbledore, after the one on my first night at Hogwarts.

* * *

I was called up to his office, and once again the potrait of a knight, Sir Cadogan, helped me to find my way. All of the other portraits ignored me, and I wasn't sure why Sir Cadogan was an exception. I made up my mind to ask Dumbledore in the meeting - if I got the chance to.

The office was exactly as I remembered it from my first visit. The room was a semi circle in shape, with the entrance on the flat side. Portraits of important looking wizards lined the far, curved wall. A large desk was sat in the middle of the room, covered in papers, books, parchments, and curious wizardly devices. Shelves against the flat wall held countless small trinkets that I didn't have a doughnut's chance in a room full of fatties at identifying. On the far side of the desk sat Professor Dumbledore.

He was your stereotypical wizard. His robes were a deep purple colour, but rather than making him look gay, they gave him a very regal look. His wizard's hat was the same colour, but rather than atop his head, it was on the desk. His hair was long and white, hanging down the sides of his face and blending in with his equally long, equally white beard. He wore half-moon spectacles, and his eyes were full of a lifetime's memories, some happy, some sad. My cousin Ben was constantly going on about Gandalf from Lord of the Rings, and Dumbledore reminded me of his descriptions.

"Ah, you have arrived," Dumbledore said.

"Um... Yes, sir," I stuttered, butterflies in my stomach.

Dumbledore gestured to a chair on the other side of the desk to him.

"Take a seat, Mister Mason," he said.

I stepped forwards, and with shaking hands, pulled the chair out. I sat down and clasped my hands together, breathing in deeply. I was nervous, and there was no hiding it. Had Dumbledore decided he was tired of having a non-wizard at his school. Was he going to send me home - or worse, kill me to keep word from getting out? Thoughts raced through my head.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked, offering me a sweet.

"N- No thank you, sir," I said.

"There is no need to be nervous," he said, noticing my tone of voice, "No harm will befall you."

"You're not kicking me out?" I asked.

"No. Unless, perhaps, you've been doing something you shouldn't?" he said, arching an eyebrow.

"No, no! I haven't been, sir. I wouldn't!" I said.

"Then you shall be remaining at Hogwarts. Now, as to why I have called you here - you will need to tell your parents a lie, when you next see them. It pains me to make a child lie to his parents, but alas! It must be done. You must tell your parents that you suffer from Tylor's Syndrome, and that this school is the only school that offers treatment. There is more, but you shall find that in a letter on your bed this evening," he said.

"Why, sir?" I asked, "All the others can tell their parents the truth."

"The answer lies in your unique nature. Muggles who are not close relatives of wizards are not permitted to learn of our world. As you are not a wizard, that means your family cannot know the truth," he said.

"You said that last time as well, sir. That I'm not a wizard. And so did the hat, when I was sorted. But - how? I can do magic," I asked, leaning forwards in my chair.

Dumbledore sighed, and an odd expression passed across his face. His eyes fell to the desk, and he mouthed words I couldn't discern.

"I am afraid that I cannot tell you," he said, his voice heavy with regret, "In time, you will be told, but the knowledge is something you are not ready for. It is better for you to have a normal childhood."

"But sir! It's about me, I deserve to know!" I protested, growing more confident.

"Not while you are so young," he said, shaking his head.

"Please! I really need to know, and-"

"Enough."

His voice was calm, but powerful, and I knew not to ask again.

"Sorry sir," I said, dropping my gaze to the floor.

"That will be all, Matthew," he said.

I realised I had forgotten to ask about Sir Cadogan.

"Unless, that is, you have any questions to ask of me?" Dumbledore said, as though he had read my mind.

"I have one, sir," I said, "All the portraits ignore me - I know it's because I'm a muggle, not a wizard - but Sir Cadogan doesn't. Why?"

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Sir Cadogan is an odd sort," the old wizard said, "His interactions with you are just another peculair trait of his."

"Oh, okay then," I said, "Goodbye, sir."

"Farewell."

* * *

The Hogwarts Express could only get as close as Hogsmeade, because there was no train station in Hogwarts. That meant those of us going home for Christmas needed to get a carriage from Hogwarts down to the town. It was walking distance, but the rules were rules, and so the carriages were mandatory.

I said my goodbyes to all my friends, promised Jamie to bring a football, and headed out of the castle, my suitcase rolling along behind me. It was snowing lightly outside, and had been for a few days. The castle grounds were coated in white snow. It was beautiful to behold, such a wonderful landscape turned into a winter wonderland. It was a shame to be leaving such a view behind so soon.

The carraiges were nothing special. However, the animals carrying them were - they didn't exist. There was very clearly nothing pulling any of the carriages. I got on to the nearest one, hauling my suitcase up along with me, and sat down. It was one of the last carriages, and it was empty except for me, a fifth year Hufflepuff, and that weird Ravenclaw girl - Luna Lovewell, maybe? No, that wasn't it... Luna Lovegood! She was a small girl, with dirty blonde hair and unfocused eyes.

"Hi," I said as the carriages got rolling.

The Hufflepuff ignored me, looking at a letter in his hands.

"Hi," Luna said.

"It's great how the carriages are pulled by magic," I said, trying to make conversation.

"They're not. The Thestrals pull them," Luna said, looking at the space in front of the carriage where the animal pulling it would have been.

"Thestrals? Luna, there's nothing there," I said.

"Not everyone can see them. Only those who have seen death," she said with a shrug, "I guess that isn't you."

I shook my head.

"Who's death did you see?" I blurted out thoughtlessly.

"My mum's," she said.

"I'm sorry! It was rude of me to ask," I said, hanging my head in shame.

"It's okay, I don't mind. I was very little when it happened. It was a potions accident," she said.

She went back to her newspaper.

"What paper is that?" I asked.

"It's The Quibbler," she said, "Daddy writes it. It's the only real news source - the Prophet don't even write about the Rotfang Conspiracy."

"Right," I said, skeptical, "And what is the Rotfang Conspiracy?"

"I thought everyone knew," she said, looking slightly surprised, "It's a conspiracy to bring down the Ministry of Magic, using a bit of dark magic, and a bit of gum disease. It's all very sinister."

The Hufflepuff looked at Luna with confusion.

"Ooo-kay then," I said, deciding not to talk to the obviously insane girl any more.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express looked magestic. It was wearing a fresh coat of red paint, and it stood out especially against the backdrop of wooden buildings and white snow. The words 'Hogwarts Express' were emblazoned on the side in glittering gold. I'd always liked trains, ever since Thomas the Tank Engine, and the Hogwarts Express was no exception.

I boarded the train, and found an empty compartment. I took a seat, tucked my suitcase under it, and sat back. The train came to life and rolled off down the track and out of the station. The village of Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts castle beyond it, faded into the distance as the long journey to King's Cross Station in London began. I was looking forwards to going home, while simultaneously dreading it. It was an odd combination.

The scenery was beautiful. Towering mountains coated in snow and frost rolled by outside of the train's windows. Lochs, frozen over in the winter weather, spread out across the landscape before vanishing as the train roared past at high speeds. The sun in the sky shone, the light reaching down but not the warmth.

I was broken from them thoughts when the compartment door slid open and a first year Slytherin boy stepped in. He was slightly taller than me, and his dark hair was longer than mine, reaching to his shoulders. His eyes were a light shade of brown. A fading bruise spread across his cheek. I searched my mind for his name. Marcel Trivvers.

"What do you want?" I asked, rising to my feet.

"Can I sit in here? Please?" he asked.

"No," I said, "Piss off, Slytherin."

"What? Why? I never said anything nasty to you!" he protested, shrugging theatrically with the second word.

"Yeah, but you laughed along, didn't you? You're just another slimy Slytherin," I sneered, "Now leave."

He glared, and then stormed out, muttering about mudbloods. God, I hated Slytherins. They were always starting trouble with us Gryffindors for no reason. Why couldn't they just leave us alone? I'd be a lot happier if they did.

The rest of the journey was uneventful, and soon enough the train was stopping at King's Cross. My dad was waiting with his car in the car park. I was nervous.

I would soon be seeing my parents again. And then I would be lying to their faces.


	6. VI: Christmas Holidays

I held my suitcase in my hand, took a deep breath, and jogged into the solid barrier at the end of Platform 9 3/4. I closed my eyes just before I hit it, a reflex more than anything else, and didn't open them until I was through into the muggle side of King's Cross Station. I looked back at the barrier with a shiver. I'd never get used to the idea of running into solid walls, no matter how many times I would do so.

I swept my eyes across the platform. It was a shock, coming back into the normal world from somewhere so strange. Seeing normal people waiting on the platform, wearing jeans and tee-shirts instead of elegant robes, was surprising, but at the same time, it made me feel at home - as though I was back where I belonged.

'This is where you belong,' a voice said from the back of my mind, 'you're a muggle, not a wizard.'

I ignored it, and tried to spot my parents. It took only a few seconds. I saw my dad first, his head poking out above the crowd due to his height. My mum was standing next to him, not nearly as tall and harder to see. I let go of my suitcase and sprinted over.

"Mum! Dad!" I called out.

They both span to face me, and I threw myself into my dad's arms.

"Matt! We've missed you so much!" my mum said, pulling me into a crushing hug as soon as my dad let me go.

"I've missed you too," I said, a tear in my eye.

"You'll have to tell us all about what you've been up to at that school," my mum said, "And about everything else, too."

"Okay," I said, nodding, "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, not now!" she said, "We're going to that restaurant you like- what's it called, Peter?"

"Pizza Hut," my dad said.

"Wow, thanks," I said, "That's my favourite!"

My dad put his hand on my back and together the three of us made our way out of King's Cross, and into the car park. A sea of colourful cars swept over the dark grey tarmac, stretching out from the station. We navigated the maze of vehicles and found my dad's car, a blue Vauxhall Astra. My parents sat in the front, and I had the back to myself.

"So," my dad said as he drove, "You've got some explaining to do."

I was surprised that he got over his hate of talking while driving.

"Yes," I said, nodding, "I do. Where should I start?"

By unspoken agreement, my dad let my mum start the questioning.

"You were with me at the train station, and then you vanished. I was so worried. What happened?" she asked.

"I thought you got a letter explaining-"

"Yes, we did. And the doctor visited. But I want to hear it from you, Matthew."

I took a deep breath. It was time to start lying to my parents.

"I was wandering up and down the platform because I was really bored. All of a sudden, I was waking up in an ambulance. They told me that I fainted and they took me to the hospital. At the hospital, they did some kind of blood test thing, and found out I have Tylor's Syndrome."

"Tylor's Syndrome," my dad said inquisitively.

"It's a rare disease. The syn- sym-" I said, unable to find the word I was looking for.

"Symptoms?" my mum suggested.

"Yeah. The symptoms are fainting and that thing where you can't sleep. But if it isn't treated, you can go blind and deaf," I said, hoping it wasn't too obvious that I was telling a well rehearsed lie.

"And then they took you to a boarding school," my dad said.

I nodded, knowing my dad would see it in the rear view mirror.

"The school is called Hogwarts. They are the only school in the country who can treat Tylor's Syndrome. So I have to go there now," I said, realising how dumb 'Hogwarts' sounded and wishing I'd made up a fake, more sensible name.

"How long do you have to attend there?" my mum asked.

"We had plans for your education," my dad added.

"I know you had plans, dad, but I have to go to Hogwarts. They're the only place that can treat my disease. I have to go for seven years - including this one," I said, the lie coming surprisingly easy; if you viewed magic as a disease, it wasn't even a lie.

"What about when you've graduated, Matthew? How will you be treated then?" my mum asked.

"Um-" I hadn't been expected that question. "I, um- It doesn't affect people over eighteen."

"How can that be?" my mum asked.

"It's to do with puberty, I think," I said.

I didn't know much at all about puberty. Hogwarts didn't have any lessons about it, so all I knew was from one lesson at the end of primary school. However, I knew enough to know that it lasted for most of your teenage years and caused changes in your body. I hoped the lie I had just invented was plausible.

"That's very vague," my dad said, subtly demanding more information.

"Peter, leave him alone. It's probably too complicated for an eleven year old," my mum said, giving me a lifeline.

"It is!" I said, "It is complicated. When they were telling me about it they used lots of sciency medical words that I didn't understand."

My dad found somewhere to park the car and we all got out and walked to Pizza Hut. The interrogation was over - for now - and the secret of magic was still safe. I had hated protecting it. All I wanted to do was cave in and tell my parents everything about Hogwarts, about magic, about my friends. But I couldn't. I had to lie to them, and that was awful.

* * *

It was good, being home.

It was just as I remembered it. The house itself, sealed away behind a dark green door with a gold '12'. My bedroom was cleaner than I'd ever seen it before, but my bed looked as inviting and comfortable as ever. The lounge was still arranged so as to draw attention to the television we bought two years ago. The garden was full of flowers, my football lying forgotten and deflated in a corner.

I met up with my friends from primary school, but the connection was gone. They had new friends, I had new friends, and we had all moved on. We spent a day hanging out, had a kickabout in the local park, and then at the end of the day we went our separate ways. I didn't invite them out again, and they didn't invite me. It was a shame, but deep down I knew it was certain to happen. How could I be friends with people who lived in practically another world to me?

On Christmas Day we went to my grandparents' house, where the whole family had come to celebrate. I wasn't able to enjoy it as much as I used to, because I had to spend most of the day lying to all of my relatives about Hogwarts. I hoped that they would stop asking about it next year, but I doubted it. Relatives always wanted to talk about two things: my school, and how much I'd grown.

A few days later I finally got to see a football match again. There had been none of it at Hogwarts, only Quidditch. My dad took me to see Tottenham play against Nottingham Forest. I cheered as Tottenham took the lead courtesy of Barmby, looked sad as Nottingham's number eight smashed in an equaliser, and cheered again as Mabbutt launched himself across the ground to poke in a winner for Tottenham. I bought a new football from the club shop on the way out, remembering my promise to Jamie.

In a funny, ironic twist of fate, I found myself longing to go back to Hogwarts, when I had spent my last week at Hogwarts eagerly anticipating my return home. It had been good to come home, to see my parents, to sleep in my own bed, to see football played... But I knew that Hogwarts was the place for me - even if that voice in the back of my head hissed that I wasn't a real wizard.

On the last day of the holidays, I packed my suitcase and dreamt of that bizzare castle in the Scottish highlands.


	7. VII: Return to Hogwarts

The car slowed to a stop, and the growling of the engine faded away as my dad parked the vehicle and shut off the engine. We opened our doors and got out. My dad hauled my suitcase out of the car's boot and handed it to me.

"Which platform did you say it was, son?" he asked.

"Ten. I can get there myself, though," I said, not wanting him coming with me. That would make getting through the barrier difficult, to say the least.

"I don't think so," he said, putting his hand on my back, "The last time you were out of sight here, you collapsed."

"It's fine, dad," I said, begging silently for him to let me go alone.

"Confundus," a calm voice said.

A dazed expression passed across my dad's face, and he looked around as though he was looking for something. I turned around, gripping my suitcase tightly.

A man in smart black trousers, and dark blue suit jacket, and a Hawaiian shirt was approaching, tucking a wand into his pocket. He nodded at me, then returned his attention to my dad.

"Mister Mason," he said, "My name is Tiberius Green. I am an employee at Hogwarts School, which, as I'm sure you'll remember, your child Matthew attends. I will be helping him onto the train."

"Oh, yes! The train! I knew I had a reason for being here!" my dad said.

"Say your goodbyes," the wizard said.

My dad said goodbye and gave me a tight hug, and then the wizard lead me away.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Weren't you listening? Tiberius Green," he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

"That's your name," I said, "Not who you are."

He nodded. "Very astute. I'm a friend of Dumbledore's, and he's asked for my help with getting you to Hogwarts without your parents getting suspicious."

"Thank you, Mister Green," I said. I should have realised my parents weren't casually accepting my mysterious boarding school on my word alone. Of course Dumbledore had a wizard... helping them along.

We walked into the station.

"What do you think about my outfit?" he asked, "Suitably muggle?"

"Um... Kind of," I said.

"Only kind of?"

"Well, the combination is weird. The shirt is, like, a casual thing, but the trousers and jacket are for rich people with important jobs. But it's not bad."

"Interesting."

We reached the barrier between Platform Nine and Ten. A teenager a few years older than me had just passed through, and her parents said 'hello' to Tiberius as they walked past on the way out.

"Through you go, kid," Tiberius said, gesturing to the barrier.

I looked at it. It appeared solid, but I knew it wasn't. I squeezed my eyes shut and jogged at it-

and through into the wizarding world.

* * *

The castle was just as amazing as I remembered it. It stood silhouetted against the evening sky as the carriages - which were clearly not pulled by any horses, no matter what that crazy girl had said last time - rolled along the road, through the gates, and into the grounds.

The entrance hall was as grand as ever, and I felt tiny and insignificant as I walked into the humongous room. The doors on the right hand wall, that lead through to the grand hall, were three times as tall as me - and they didn't even reach the ceiling of the room!

I made my way though the twisting and turning corridors, up spiralling staircases and past living portraits. I was following some older Gryffindors, and they knew their way through the castle really well. I doubted I would ever be that familiar with the school; seventy years wouldn't be enough to learn the entire layout, let alone the seven I would be spending here.

The password given to the fat lady was 'pomegranate', and we were through into the Gryffindor common room. I headed upstairs, and into the first year boy's dormitory. The others were all asleep. I felt a bit disappointed, but it was late in the day and it was no surprise that they had gone to bed. I crawled into my bed and closed my eyes. Sleep soon claimed me.

* * *

"Wake up! Matt! Wake up!" an enthusiastic voice demanded, shaking my shoulders.

I raised my hands and pushed the arms away from me.

"I'm waking up, Jake," I said, sitting up.

"I've missed you, mate," he said.

"And I you," I said.

He smiled and shook his head.

"What?" I asked.

"And I you," he quoted, "Who speaks like that?"

"Me, obviously," I said, standing up.

"Oi, you're awake," Toby said, hurrying over, "'Bout time!"

"I got here late. I needed sleep," I said.

"Yeah, whatever. We need ta get ya used to the Wizard world again," he said.

"I haven't forgotten anything, Toby," I laughed, "Living here is like riding a bicycle."

"A what now?" he asked. I remembered that bicycles, while common in the muggle world, weren't something wizards were familiar with.

"It's a muggle thing. Like a broom, but it doesn't fly. And has wheels. And is made of metal. And-"

"So, nothing like a broom?" Jake cut in before I could get carried away.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Hey, Matt! Did you bring a ball?" Jamie shouted, entering the room from the en-suite bathroom.

My suitcase was on the floor beside my bed. I unzipped it and got out a ball. It was a brand new one, picked out from the club shop when I went to see Tottenham in the holiday. I threw it towards Jamie.

"Yes! You're a legend, Matt!" he said, catching the ball, "Let's go teach these two what a real sport looks like!"

I looked down at my pyjamas.

"I'm not ready yet, mate."

* * *

After getting dressed and having breakfast, Jamie dragged Jake, Toby and me outside with my ball. We headed for an open patch of grass away from the lake, which Jamie identified as being "perfect for a bit of footie".

"I still don't think sport without brooms can be fun," Jake said.

"That's because you haven't given football a go yet," Jamie said.

I dropped the ball to the ground, then hooked my foot under it and flicked it up, through the air, and to Jamie's feet. Jamie kicked it over to Jake.

"Now kick it to Toby," Jamie instructed, pointing.

Jake smacked his foot into the ball and it soared off towards Toby. It curved as it flew and landed off to Toby's right.

"I ain't over there," Toby teased, jogging over to the ball.

"Let's see you do better then," Jake said, crossing his arms.

Toby swung his foot at it. He made a solid contact with the ball and it cannoned above my head, before thumping into the ground somewhere behind me. I retrieved it and passed it to Toby.

"It's easier if you just pass it on the ground," I said.

Eventually, the other two got used to playing, and started to place their passes more accurately. Occasionally I had to stretch to get a foot to one of Toby's passes, but they were improving.

"Alright," Jamie said, "Now for keepie-uppies."

"What?" Jake asked.

"Sounds dumb," Toby added.

A murderous look passed across Jamie's face. I could tell what he was thinking - how dare anyone criticise football? He was mad about the game, even more than I was.

Jake and Toby definitely weren't naturals. Their first attempts at passing had been bad, but compared to their initial forays into the world of keepie-uppies, their passing was brilliant. Jamie and I could barely contain our laughter as the two of them stumbled around, trying to keep the ball in the air. Half of the time they ended up tripping over their robes, and the other half they spent wildly lashing the ball up into the air.

"I had a dog when I was little," Jamie said, "I think it was better at football."

"A dog without legs would probably be better," I said, nodding.

"Yep," Jamie laughed, "It's good to have you back, mate."

"It'd good to be back," I said.

It was. Hogwarts was such a wonderful, interesting place. I had missed it when I was gone, and now I was back I was reminded of why. It wasn't the castle I missed - not really. It wasn't the magic. I missed it, but it wasn't the main thing.

It was my friends.


	8. VIII: The Detention

The final few days of no lessons passed by quickly. It was great to be reunited with my friends and we all had a good time, hanging out, playing gobstones, and exchanging stories. Jake and Toby gave up on football, but Jamie and I found a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to play with, along with a Gryffindor from the year above. It was difficult, playing footie in the snow, but we managed.

Despite how much I was enjoying myself, I was looking forwards to lessons starting again. I'd never been the kind of person to enjoy learning in the muggle world. But learning to make things fly, brew potions and grow firebreathing plants? That was something that fascinated me.

On the final day before lessons, I went to bed dreaming of being allowed to once again do magic. The feel of my wand in my hands, the surge of power as I cast the spell, the amazement at the power I had over all before me... It was unforgettable.

* * *

Potions.

Of all the lessons to have first... Potions.

It wasn't that it was a dull subject. Not at all. I found it really interesting how all the different ingredients, prepared in specific ways, combined to create liquids with magical powers. I was fairly good at it, too. At home I'd always helped with the cooking, and some of the skills from that carried over into potion making. What made potions a bad lesson was the people.

Firstly, the teacher. Severus Snape. He prowled around the room, snapping at and criticising us Gryffindors, while praising the Slytherins. He pounced at every opportunity to dock us points like a lion pounces at it's prey.

Even worse, was our classmates, the first year Slytherins. Every time we encountered them there was at least glaring, and oftentime insults were slung. From what I could tell, this wasn't an unusual thing. All Gryffindors and Slytherins despised each other. Draco Malfoy, who I'd met on the train ages ago, had completely ignored me since my sorting, after all.

"Looking forward to seeing our Slytherin buddies?" I asked in a tone full of false cheer as us Gryffindors walked towards the dungeons.

"You bet! Boy, I love those chaps in green!" Jake replied, in a matching tone.

"What're you two on about? They're absolutely awful, mate!" Toby said.

"It's called sarcasm," I said.

"Oh, right. I look a right fool now," Toby said.

"Yep," I said.

"Why do we always have to argue with them?" Celeste asked.

"'Cos they're all right gits?" Toby suggested.

"Well, yes, but, I've been thinking about it, and there's really no need. The other houses get on with them okay, why can't we?" Celeste said.

"We're rivals," Jamie said, "We hate them and they hate us, and that's how it's got to be and always will be. It's like Liverpool and United fans."

Those among us who didn't follow football - all of the non-muggleborns, basically - looked confused.

"Or Montrose Magpies and Wigtown Wanderers fans," Jake said, using Quidditch instead of football. He had picked up on the sport, the league, and the teams fairly easily. I only knew the vague basics, such as how bad the Chudley Cannons were.

"Why do we have to be rivals? Can't we just be friends with them?" Celeste asked.

"Impossible. Besides, why would anyone want to be friends with someone like Gudgeon or Slater?" Jamie said.

Celeste reluctantly agreed, but it was clear she still wasn't convinced by the whole 'rivalry' idea. I could see where she was coming from - I tired of it sometimes, too. But I mostly agreed with Jamie.

We entered the dungeons and turned a corner, and there the Slytherins were. I could just about smell their stench - or maybe that was coming from the toilets nearby. It was probably the toilets, actually. As awful as the Slytherins were, their hygiene was okay.

"Here we go again," muttered Rochelle, one of the Gryffindor girls.

We continued forwards and met the Slytherins at the point in the corridor we were both headed for. We glared at each other, before they got in the first words.

"I know everyone hates us because of the heir, but we're not fans of him either," Slater, a Slytherin girl, said.

That caught us all by surprise.

"It's true. We're all angry at him for not killing you lot off sooner," she said.

And things were back to normal. Celeste shook her head, disappointed. She had let her hopes get up after Slater's first line. Jamie balled his fists up and glared, while Jake stepped closer to him, ready to hold him back if necessary. Ginny sniffled and dropped her gaze to her feet.

"Yeah, wish he'd hurry up! You mudbloods and blood traitors, you don't belong here," Gudgeon, a notoriously clumsy Slytherin boy, added.

"We judge people on their choices, not on their blood," Jake said, "because we're not racists like you lot."

"We'll see who's laughing when the heir gets you, and that pathetic Potter git, and that ugly ginger prefect of yours," Gudgeon said.

Ginny sobbed and put her face into her hands. I was furious all of a sudden. The Slytherins had no right to make anyone cry. I stepped forwards and lashed my fist into Gudgeon's face. I made a solid contact with his nose and he stumbled backwards, shocked. I went to punch him again, but pain shot through my gut as Slater kicked me in the chest.

Snape swooped onto the scene before things could escalate more, and I ended up getting a week's detention cleaning cauldrons. What's worse was that the first two nights I'd be joined by Slater.

* * *

"It's a load of crap!" I whinged, back in the common room, "How come I get a whole week and Slater only gets two nights? I actually hate Snape!"

"Snape's a Slytherin, of course he's gonna go easy on 'em," Toby said.

"He was right," Celeste said, earning a few incredulous glances, "I'm sorry, but this time he was."

"What? How?" I snapped.

"You attacked first. She was just defending her friend," Celeste said.

"Oh come on, Gudgeon deserved it. You saw how upset he was making Ginny," I said.

"That doesn't mean you can hit him. This whole rivalry thing is so... so stupid!" Celeste said, slamming her textbook and heading off to her dormitory.

"Why is she sticking up for bloody Snape?" I said.

"She's half right. You got more detentions because you were the first one to get violent. But Gudgeon did deserve it," Jamie said.

"He's a git. I wish I coulda been the one to bash 'im," Toby added, nodding his agreement.

"Next time," I said with a slight smile.

A couple of minutes later, I headed down to my detention. Celeste's words kept coming into my head. Why did there have to be such hate between the two houses? Obviously there were people like Gudgeon and Slater, but one or two of the others might've been my friends if they weren't in Slytherin.

I arrived in the room a minute early. Slater and Snape were both already there. Snape explained that we would both be cleaning cauldron using no magic, and we began. Halfway through the two hours of detention, Snape announced he would be leaving for ten minutes. He warned us that if anything happened while he was gone, he'd be taking a lot of points.

"Why do you hate us?" I asked after a minute of complete silence.

Slater looked over at me, and hesitated for a moment.

"I don't," she said quietly.

"What do you mean you don't hate us? You're always insulting us over nothing. You said you wished the heir killed us!" I said, not believing what she had said.

"Nevermind. Just forget it," she said.

"Because you're lying," I said, "Of course you hate us."

She didn't reply, just frowned at the cauldron she was scrubbing. After about a minute, she threw the cleaning rag down into the cauldron and turned to face me again.

"I'll explain. But, just... Promise you won't say anything," she said.

As much as I didn't want to make her any promises, my curiosity was piqued.

"Promise," I said reluctantly.

"If you break the promise, I will kill you," she threatened.

"I won't," I said.

"My mum was head girl. All the Slytherins loved her, and even the other houses respected her. She wants me to be like her," she said.

"Why does that mean-" I started.

"Shush! I'm getting to that!" she snapped, angry at being interrupted.

"Fine," I said, deciding against saying sorry.

"When you're in Slytherin, everyone wants you to hate Gryffindor. If you don't, then you're a traitor. Elias Fletcher, in our year, he told everyone to stop being mean to Gryffindor. And now no one talks to him, almost. I don't want to be on my own like that."

"What does this have to do with your mum wanting you to be head girl?"

"I can't just be quiet like some of the others do. I have to be a leader if I want to one day be head girl. And that means I have to be nasty to you lot."

"Why don't you just... Not be head girl? If you really don't want to be mean?"

She shook her head.

"It's not that simple. My mum has high expectations. If I fail her, she'll- Nevermind. I shouldn't be telling you this..."

"I promised not to tell anyone."

"You better keep that promise. But... I'll try to be less nasty. You just _don't hit my friends_ and _don't tell anyone._ Okay?"

"Deal," I said.

As I left my detention, I knew Celeste would be proud of me for taking a step towards peace in Hogwarts.


	9. IX: Snapping Shrubs & Smiling Slytherins

As much as I wanted to tell my friends about the conversation I'd had with Slater - about how she'd promised to be less nasty - I knew I couldn't. I'd made a promise, and although I didn't like the person I'd made it to, I wouldn't break it. Unless, of course, she broke her promise.

"How was it?" Jake asked when I got back to the dorm room. Toby and Jamie both looked over, then returned to their conversation.

"Wonderful," I said sarcastically, "Snape and I had a right laugh together. I can't wait until tomorrow so we can do the same again."

"Maybe I should hit a Slytherin too, if old Snapey's detentions are that fun," Jake said.

"Please do. The more the merrier," I said, just as sarcastic as before. While I talked, I looked through my bedside drawer until I found my pyjamas.

"Which to hit?" he asked, in a tone more suited to deep philosophical questions than choices of victim.

I went into the bathroom and changed, then came back out and dumped my crumpled-up uniform into a random drawer.

"Seriously though," Jake said, "How bad was Snape? And Slater?"

"Not at all, really. I just did the work in silence, so did Slater, and Snape didn't say anything," I lied.

"Well then... By Snape's standards, that _is_ having a laugh. You were telling the truth, eh?" Jake said with a smile, marking off _January the 19th_ on his calendar.

"You could say that." I said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, mate."

* * *

The next day, I didn't have potions until the last period on the timetable. I was nervous about it - well, perhaps not so much nervous about the lesson. I was nervous about Slater, and whether she'd keep her promise. Part of me expected her to be as nasty as ever. She was a slimy Slytherin, after all. But on the other hand, she had told me a surprising amount about her motives, and why would she do that if she wasn't going to try to change?

The more pressing concern, though, was the plant trying to eat my hands off. Herbology was a surprisingly dangerous subject, especially when dealing with Snapping Sageflowers. I'd heard rumours that someone had lost a finger last year, but I doubted they were true. Surely the school wouldn't keep plants if they took some poor guy's finger?

"Ow!" I said, yanking my hand away from the plant as it's jaws snapped shut on my fingers.

Ginny, whom I was working with this lesson, giggled.

"It's not funny," I said, checking for bite marks. There weren't any.

"Maybe not for you," she said, smiling.

"You hold it's mouth shut, and I'll clip the leaves," I said.

She nodded, then reached out and grabbed the plant's mouth, forcing it closed. I went in and clipped off the leaves one by one, collecting them in my other hand.

"That was easy," I said, dropping the leaves onto the table.

"It's because we worked together." Ginny said, letting go of the plant. "I told you trying to do it alone wouldn't work."

I just shrugged and moved the Snapping Sageflower off to the side, freeing the space for the next one to be clipped.

"This time I want to do the clipping," Ginny said.

Before I could reply, she reached over and took the clippers from my hands.

"You're a lot more cheerful recently," I said. It was true. Ever since the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, Ginny had been quiet and prone to burst into tears at the slightest thing. But recently, she'd been more like her normal self.

"Something was bothering me, but... It's gone now," Ginny mumbled, but as soon as the sentence was over her smile was back.

"What was it?" I asked.

"Grab the plant's mouth," Ginny said in a tone that left no room for argument.

"Aye aye, ma'am," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

* * *

The walk to potions wasn't an excessively long one. Out of the greenhouses, across to the castle, down the stairs and along a couple of corridors. However, it felt like a long one to me. Whether Slater would keep her promise was the big question on my mind, but I was also curious to see if she'd get her fellow Slytherins to rein it in a little.

The Slytherins were already in the classroom by the time we got there, and so was Snape. He sneered at us for being late, despite the fact there was no way we could've arrived quicker from the greenhouses. He then put some instructions onto the blackboard with a piece of white chalk that screeched as it wrote, and told us to start brewing.

Jake and I got to work, cutting and slicing, mashing and grinding, stirring clockwise and stirring counter-clockwise. The potion was going well ten minutes into the lesson, taking on the deep red colour that it was meant to. Even Snape couldn't find a snippy comment to make as he stalked past and peered into the cauldron. He did, however, find a lot wrong with Celeste and Rochelle's potion. His criticism was harsh, and I doubted a muggle teacher could have gotten away with even half of it. I tuned it out and continued to focus on the potion in front of me, so that Jake and I didn't end up on the receiving end next.

Of course, things couldn't go well forever, and definitely not in potions. Gudgeon, on a table off to the right, tossed a toad's eye at our potion. It narrowly missed, and bounced off the table onto the floor. Gudgeon picked up another toad's eye.

"Don't waste effort on them," Slater whispered from behind him.

Gudgeon looked around, confusion on his face.

"Focus on your own potion or you'll make us all look bad," she added.

As though to prove a point, Gudgeon's potions started bubbling up suddenly. His partner scrambled frantically to control it, while Gudgeon dropped the toad's eye back onto the table and tried to help.

"You alright, Matt?" Jake whispered. "Looks like your smile's going to get wider than your face."

"Gudgeon just got a telling off from one of his own house," I whispered back, cutting open a bubotuber, "Why wouldn't I be smiling?"

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. I was just glad that Slater was not only keeping her promise, but also controlling Gudgeon.

"That _was_ kind of awesome," Jake grinned.

Without anymore toad's eyes flying towards our potion, we were able to finish it without any problems. I poured it into a vial and handed it in to Snape for marking while Jake packed his bags. He was lucky enough to be returning to Gryffindor Tower; I was stuck in the dungeons for another two hours. It wasn't all bad, though - I was glad for the chance to talk to Slater and thank her.

"The same rules as yesterday apply," Snape said once it was just Slater and I in the room. "Your memory does stretch that far, Mason?"

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth.

"Yes...?" Snape said.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Do not forget, Mason, that I am your superior and am to be addressed as 'sir'," Snape said. "Now, begin."

I got to work on the cauldron I had just been using. It wasn't fun, but I pretended the sponge was sandpaper and the cauldron was Snape's face and it made it a whole lot less menial. There were very few things that I hated, but Snape was one of them, along with Arsenal and Marmite.

Snape left, stating that he'd be ten minutes, about halfway through the detention, just as he had the previous night. I guessed it was some kind of routine of his. I waited until his footsteps were too faint to hear, and then turned towards Slater.

"Thank you," I said.

"I've always wanted to tell him off. He gets annoying sometimes." Slater said, a faint smile appearing on her face.

"Sometimes?" I asked.

"A lot of the time," she admitted, "but he's still my friend."

"Won't the other Slytherins think less of you now you've stood up for a Gryffindor?" I asked.

"No, I'm smarter than that," she said. "Didn't you notice how I worded it? As though I was worried he'd embarrass Slytherin if he didn't focus on his potion?"

"I didn't, actually," I said.

"Not everyone can be as smart as I am, clearly," she said teasingly.

I grinned, forgetting for a moment that I was a Gryffindor, and she was a Slytherin, and we were supposed to be enemies.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Slater," she said, giving me a quizzical look. She held that look for about a second, then smiled and said, "Olivia. And yours?"

"Matthew. But I prefer Matt," I said.

"Well, Matt. For a Gryffindor, you're actually not bad," Slater said. No, not Slater - Olivia. I got the feeling it'd take a while to get used to referring to her by her first name.

"Thanks," I said, "You're the best Slytherin I've ever met."

A door opened in a hallway nearby, and we both fell silent and returned to cauldron cleaning. Snape entered the room shortly afterwards, and returned to his chair at the front of the room. While he wrote scathing remarks onto students' homework, I scrubbed away, and before I knew it the detention was over.

Olivia and I both walked the same way after leaving the room.

"This doesn't mean we're friends," she said, stopping at an intersection in the corridor.

"Of course not," I said, "I wouldn't want to be friends with a slimy Slytherin."

"I'm perfectly slime-free," she said. "Goodnight, Matt."

"Goodnight, Olivia."

We went our separate ways.


	10. X: Valentine's Day

It was February the 14th.

In the morning, all the girls had seemed excited by something. I couldn't work out what it was. Neither could Jake. Neither could Jamie. Neither could Toby. We went to breakfast with a mystery to solve.

The Great Hall had been redecorated overnight. Pink flowers decorated the towering walls of the room, and heart-shaped confetti drifted down from the enchanted ceiling high above. The blue sky with fluffy white butts was barely visible through the decorations clogging the air. Lockhart's robes matched the colour scheme - they were horrendously pink.

"What on Earth is he wearing?" Toby asked.

"Bright pink robes," I said, still shocked by the decorations.

"He looks so handsome in them!" Rochelle said, clasping her hands together and gazing longingly at the DADA Professor.

As if things weren't bizarre enough already, Lockhart stood up to deliver a speech in which he announced: it was Valentine's Day, a romantic holiday; he had received at least fourty-six Valentine's Day cards; Professor Flitwick could teach us a love spell, and Professor Snape could teach us to make love potions; and dwarfs would be delivering valentines to students.

"I think I'm still asleep," I said as the speech ended and food appeared on the table.

"If this is the kind of thing you dream about, you need your head checked," Jake said.

"It's not," I said. "I just can't believe that this is real."

"Strange, isn't it?" Jake said, nodding.

I grabbed a croissant and started eating. I'd never had croissants at home, but I'd have to get on my parents' case about buying them in the holidays. They were delicious.

"Bloody confetti!" Toby cursed, picking one of the heart-shaped decorations out of his pumpkin juice. "Who's idea was this?"

"Lockhart," Jake said, turning to glare at the pink-robed man at the high table.

"He's an idiot," Toby said, chucking the waterlogged piece of confetti onto the ground beside his chair.

"Don't be mean about Lockhart!" Celeste said.

"Here we go again," I said. The arguments about Lockhart had started in the first week of the school year, and hadn't stopped since. The girls refused to hear a bad word about him, despite the fact that he was an incompetent teacher.

I tried to ignore the argument that was kicking off, and instead talked to Jamie about football. He had _The Telegraph_ delivered, which meant he knew all of the results.

* * *

It was a relief when breakfast finally ended, and I was able to escape from the rain of confetti and the bright pink decorations. The rest of the castle was normal, other than the presence of dwarfs dressed in white robes with golden angel wings. Thankfully, none of them came towards me or my friends, and we arrived at our first lesson of the day without any of us being serenaded with love songs by a grumpy dwarf. Of all the wonders of Hogwarts, the dwarfs today were by far the strangest.

It was a relief, but not a surprise, that Professor McGonagall hadn't decorated her classroom. It didn't stop the girls from whispering about Valentine's Day, but it was better than the pink hell the Great Hall had become. I was able to focus on the lesson's task: turning a biscuit into a quill.

"When'll we ever need to know this spell?" Toby said. He wasn't having any success and was getting frustrated.

"I'm just happy to be learning any magic," I said, before attempting the spell again. The chocolate chips in the biscuit turned into fluffy bits of feather.

"Same," Jamie said, "Lighten up, Tobes."

"Yeah, it's magic, but it ain't fun magic. Anything that takes away biscuits ain't something I wanna do," Toby ranted, jabbing his deformed biscuit with his wand.

"Biscuits are overrated," Jamie said. "Ice cream's where it's at. Is there a spell to turn stuff into ice cream?"

"You can't turn anything into food," I said, remembering what McGonagall had told us in one of the first lessons. "When the spell wears off, it'll mess up your stomach."

I gave the spell another go, carefully copying the wand movements we had been shown, and chanting the spell calmly but clearly. The biscuit morphed into a quill - an oddly shaped, crumb-covered quill, but a quill nonetheless.

"Yes!" I said.

"Well now you don't have a biscuit, an' I do," Toby said. "Who's the real winner?"

I looked sceptically at his biscuit, which was less and less resembling a biscuit, and more and more resembling... It didn't really resemble anything that I could think of.

"I doubt that's still edible," I said, nodding in the former biscuit's direction.

"Nah. Probably not," Toby said.

The genuine sorrow in his voice caused me to laugh a little. Toby ignored me as he scooped the remains of his biscuit into the bin and used a hover charm to fly another over to his table.

"Woops. I didn't mean to get two of 'em," Toby said.

"Yeah right," Jamie and I said.

Toby shrugged and ate one of the biscuits.

* * *

Throughout the day, the dwarf were getting more and more irritable. Rather than ordering people to stop, they were now tackling them to the ground. Rather than singing the love songs out of tune, they were grumbling them without any attempt to capture the music aspect. One of them had taken a quick look at Jamie, but identified him as not being his latest victim, much to Jamie's relief. Mere seconds later, that same dwarf had found the boy who was his real victim: Harry Potter.

In Harry's attempts to flee, and the resulting rugby tackle by the dwarf, Harry's bag was torn open. His books spilt all over the place while the dwarf read from a piece of paper about how his eyes were "as green as a fresh-pickled toad." I was no expert, but fresh-pickled toads didn't sound very romantic to me. Ginny seemed to disagree, and was as red as a tomato. My eyes were drawn towards a plain black diary amongst Harry's books. I got the strange feeling that there was something important about it, but I couldn't tell what.

Draco Malfoy arrived on the scene, and I decided to leave. I still couldn't stand the sight of him, now that I knew exactly what kind of person he really was - a racist Slytherin. Not all Slytherins were bad, but all racists definitely were.

"Let's go," I said to Jake, "Malfoy and Harry in the same place won't end well."

"They're no worse than us," Jake said, walking along beside me. "Slater and Gudgeon are always at our throats and we're always at theirs."

He was only half right. I briefly considered my options. There was no way I was revealing that Olivia and I were almost friends, but that didn't mean I couldn't say anything. I decided to mention how Olivia hadn't caused much trouble with us Gryffindors lately - without mentioning the promise, obviously.

"I think Slater's been less nasty recently," I said, as we rounded a corner into an empty corridor.

"And you choose Valentine's Day to say that?" Jake teased.

"No! Definitely not!" I said, feeling heat in my cheeks. I looked away, out of one of the arrow-slit windows, hoping he wouldn't notice that I was blushing.

"Relax, relax. I bet you'd rather date Moaning Myrtle," Jake said.

"What, the ghost?" I said. I'd never met her, but I'd heard about how she haunted one of the toilets. One of the girls had gone into her toilet, and regretted it ever since.

"Yeah," Jake said.

"True," I said.

"Is that because no living girls fancy you?" he teased.

"You've gotten exactly zero valentines," I said, "Even after you put all of them hours of work into your hair."

"I do _not_ put hours of work into my hair," he said.

"Yeah, right," I said.

He definitely did.

* * *

"What happened to the whole Chamber of Secrets thing?" I asked my friends as we sat around in the Gryffindor common room.

"What do you mean?" Jamie said, moving a pawn and taking one of Jake's knights.

"Well, it opened back in October. And then there were a few attacks. But there's been nothing since Christmas," I said.

"The Heir probably realised they were about to be caught," Jamie said.

"What, so they just gave up?" I said, watching as Jake's bishop took out Jamie's pawn in an act of revenge.

"You said it yourself that there hasn't been an attack in ages," Jamie said. "The heir's given up. Colin will be healed up at the end of the year, and everything will be back to normal."

"Normal? It's a castle full of ghosts," I said.

"Bad choice of words," Jamie admitted, before moving one of his rooks. "Good choice of chess move."

"Not really," Jake said, making a move of his own. "Check."

The chess pieces laughed and taunted Jamie. They were very talkative - except when talking to me, the "non-wizard of Hogwarts".


	11. XI: Homework & Mysteries

"And then, I waved my wand and cried ' _stupefy_ '," Lockhart said with an overly flamboyant wave of an imaginary wand. "The vampire went flying across the deck of the ship!"

Lockhart's lessons mostly consisted of him acting out the plot of his books, with a student filling in the role of whichever monster he was fighting. Today, I was the unlucky monster - one of the vampires in _Voyages with Vampires._

"Go on, Matt. Go flying," Lockhart encouraged, with an over the top gesture to back up his words.

I laid down, carefully, on the floor. There was no way I was throwing myself backwards and getting hurt for Lockhart's sake. Lockhart muttered something about not everyone being as good of an actor as him.

"But immediately after that, the other vampire jumped at me from behind," Lockhart said, and Rochelle stepped up behind him and grabbed his chest with an unnerving smile. "And bit my neck! Now, now - no actual biting!"

Rochelle looked incredibly disappointed, and her expression only worsened as Lockhart went on to pull away from her, spin around, and wave his imaginary wand again - " _stupefy_ ". She flopped to the floor dramatically.

"So how come you ain't a vampire," Toby asked.

"Patience! My tale is a fascinating one, but there's no sense to rushing through it," Lockhart said, smiling broadly.

As Lockhart continued with his acted rendition of his battle with the vampires, I realised I could close my eyes and daydream instead of paying attention. If I got caught, I could claim to be acting unconscious. So I did exactly that, and thought of more interesting things.

"That's all for this lesson," Lockhart announced after what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only an hour. "How time flies when you're having fun."

I got up and walked over to the table Jake and I sat at. I grabbed my bag, but before I could leave, Lockhart told us that there would be homework - an unreasonably high amount of inches of parchment about the ship the vampires sailed. I had been looking forwards to getting back to the Common Room and relaxing, having not gotten any homework on that day. Of course Lockhart had to ruin that.

"'Chelle, you're terrifying," Celeste said as we were leaving the lesson.

"What're you saying?" Rochelle asked, looking confused.

"You looked heartbroken when he said you couldn't bite him," Celeste said, "I know he's dreamy, but, that's scary."

I had to agree. Most of the girls were obsessed with Lockhart, but Rochelle took it way too far.

Jake walked up beside me.

"They're both mad," he said, nodding at the girls.

"Aren't we all?" I mused.

"We'd be boring if we weren't," Jake said. "You up for some Gobstones when we get back?"

"Nah, I'm going to the library to do the homework," I said. "I don't have a copy of the book, do I?"

"I've told you I'm really sorry about that! I just wanted to test that spell..." Jake said.

"It's fine. The library isn't that bad," I said. I actually enjoyed going to the library. There was so much magical knowledge contained there, and because of that I could get lost there for hours and hours. Jake, who had been brought up in a wizard family, didn't find reading about magic nearly as fascinating as I did.

"See you later, mate," Jake said.

"Yeah, see you," I said, turning into a separate corridor that lead towards the library.

* * *

The library was almost empty when I got there. That wasn't surprising - who would want to study on a Friday night? I wouldn't if it wasn't for the promise I made myself: do your homework the night you get it. I'd forgotten too many assignments, and received too many detentions, to keep leaving them until closer to the due date.

I found a copy of _Voyages with Vampires_ , then took it to an empty table tucked away in the corner of the library and opened it up. I then fished through my bag for a quill, ink, and parchment. At first using switching from modern techniques to such an old, outdated way of writing had been weird, but now I found it more natural than using a pen and paper. I wrote my name and the title, then started looking through the book for the chapter when the ship was first introduced.

Eventually I found it, and started writing. The ship was a stereotypical pirate ship, except for the vampiric twists. Most pirate ships didn't have barrels of blood in the hold, nor did they have enchanted cannons that reloaded using magic. The flag, too, was vampire-influenced - a droplet of blood with the shape of a skull cut out of it. I drew it onto my parchment, because it was an easy way to fill up some of the space, and Lockhart wasn't the kind of teacher who minded drawing on essays.

"Hey," someone said, distracting me from my work.

I looked up to see Olivia sitting down on the opposite side of the table.

"Hi," I said, looking around to make sure no one would see me talking to a Slytherin. The table was tucked away in a corner, and the library was almost empty, so the coast was clear.

"If anyone asks, the library was full when I got here," Olivia said, clearly thinking along the same lines as I was.

"Obviously. Why else would you sit with a Gryffindor?" I said.

"Exactly," she said, getting her homework out of her bag.

Jake's words to me on Valentine's Day popped into my mind. He had joked about me fancying Olivia. I had never thought about her, on any girl, like that before, but I had to admit Olivia was cute. Her long, dark hair framed her pretty face nicely, and her smile was one of the nicest I'd ever seen.

I looked down at my homework to conceal my blush. It was stupid of me, anyway. I was only eleven - far too young to be fancying girls. After a minute or so, I decided to break the silence.

"How are you?" I asked, looking away from my depiction of the ship's flag.

"As good as I always am," Olivia said, putting down her quill. "And you?"

"I'm alright, thanks. The other Slytherins aren't upset you've stopped bullying Gryffindors?" I said. Olivia had told me that she mostly bullied Gryffindors because the other Slytherins wanted, and expected, her to do so.

"Not really. I still insult you lot, I just do it behind your backs. That keeps my friends happy enough," she said.

I wasn't necessarily happy to hear that Olivia was being nasty about me and my friends when we weren't there, but I accepted it. It was much better than being insulted to our faces, and she needed to do it to remain top dog in Slytherin.

"So all that bullying was never necessary?" I asked, "You could've just done what you're doing now?"

"Perhaps," she said, before deciding to change the subject. "Is that Lockhart's homework? The essay about the ship?"

"Unfortunately, yes," I said, looking down at the parchment.

"Why didn't I think of drawing the flag?" she said, sounding impressed with my way of avoiding some of the writing.

"I'm just a genius," I said.

"Yeah, right," she giggled. "A genius in Gryffindor? Not likely!"

"You don't have to be dumb to be brave," I said.

"I bet it helps, though," she said.

"Yeah, that's probably true," I admitted.

"Looks like I'm a genius as well," she said, smiling.

"We should've been Ravenclaws," I said. "Maybe then we could've been friends."

"You wish. Even if we were in the same house, I'd still be able to get _way_ better friends than you," she said, with a wink that showed she wasn't being serious.

"Shame you haven't been able to in Slytherin," I teased.

"Hey! My friends are great. Just because they don't like you doesn't mean there's anything wrong with them," she said.

We settled back into a comfortable silence. I decided to draw the ship as well as the flag, taking up even more space on the parchment that I would otherwise have had to write in. I'd still have to write quite a lot, but every little helped. Olivia was working on her transfiguration homework, and didn't look like she was enjoying it. I didn't blame her, transfiguration homework was among the world's worst things.

* * *

As I walked back to the Gryffindor common room, I got out my wand. It felt more and more natural in my hand each day, and the sight of it's polished wood and spheres of magical liquid was comforting. That wasn't why I got it out, though. I wanted to practice the _lumos_ charm we had been taught recently, and walking through a dimly lit castle at night was a good opportunity to do so.

"Lumos," I said, waving my wand in the pattern needed for the spell.

The liquid in the spheres turned gold and bubbled, and then a faint light came from the end of my wand. I tried again, and the light came out much brighter, lighting up the corridor ahead of me.

"You there," a portrait said, "Come here."

I turned to the source of the noise, and saw a portrait of an old man. He had a sharp nose, the disdainful look of an aristocrat, and robes that would have been expensive if they weren't made of paint. The label on the portrait identified him as Philinus Wynter.

"Yes?" I asked. I was quite surprised, because most portraits didn't talk to me. Only Sir Cadogan, the possible insane knight, had ever done so.

"Show me that wand of yours," Philinus commanded.

"Nox," I said, bringing an end to the light pouring from my wand. I didn't want to blind the portrait. Could portraits be blinded?

I held up my wand in front of the Philinus' painted eyes.

"How interesting! I suspected that such a wand could be made, however I never applied myself to making one. Tell me, boy, are you a wizard?" Philinus said, talking very quickly.

"Apparently not. Although I can cast spells, so I really don't know," I said.

"I suspected as much. That's why we portraits never talk to you - you're a muggle. Not an ordinary muggle, though," Philinus said, "This wand of yours draws upon a source of magic within you."

"But, if I've got magic in me, why am I not a wizard?" I asked, confused.

"The magic isn't yours, boy. It has come from someone, or something, apart from you. What that is remains a mystery, though. Certainly, it is not easily done, else all squibs could be cured of their condition," he said, furrowing his brow in concentration as he thought.

"Don't you have any ideas?" I asked, desperate to know what I was.

"A potions accident, perhaps? In theory, being exposed to an exploding potion during your early development as a child could cause such effects, but in all likelihood it'd result in death instead. An experiment of unusual nature is a possibility, too..." he said.

"Thank you," I said. "I'm really desperate to know what I am. And if you could tell the others portraits to stop ignoring me, that'd be nice."

"No, no. You are my riddle to solve. I will not have that bastard Wittle beating me to another answer," he said.

Before I could ask more questions, he drew a painted curtain over his portrait. Snores came soon afterwards, and I continued on my way to the Gryffindor common room.


	12. XII: Grumpy Portraits & Magic Flames

Phillinus Wynter had given me just as many questions as answers. He had told me that my magic wasn't mine, but was from a mysterious external source. The, he had suggested couple of theories as to what it could be: a potions accident when I was a young child, or an experiment of some kind. Neither made any sense to me. I had grown up in the muggle world, which meant I would never have been exposed to potions or mad wizard-scientists before.

The conversation had given me a mystery to solve, and if Scooby Doo had taught me anything, it was that I needed to search for clues. Well, technically it was to split up and search for clues, but there was only one of me. So, the next day, during lunchtime, I went to talk to Wynter again. Maybe he had thought about it overnight, and worked out what I was?

When I arrived, Phillinus was sleeping. The painted curtains, which were a deep shade of maroon, were still drawn, but the long-dead wizard could be seen in the gap between them. He had a white nightcap on, which made him appear fairly comical.

"Excuse me? Mister Wynter?" I said.

He jumped, and hit his head against the top of the frame. The nightcap fell off of his head. Scowling, he looked at me.

"What is the meaning of this? You should not disrupt a man's sleep, boy," he said, straightening out his robes.

"You're a painting," I said.

"What are you implying? Paintings need sleep just as much as the living, I'll have you know," he said.

"Right... Sorry," I said, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"I'm awake now. What did you feel was more important that my rest?" he asked.

"I was wondering if you'd thought any more about what I am?" I said.

"Of course I haven't!" he snapped. "I've been sleeping."

"Oh, right, yeah... But, can I ask you a question?" I said.

"You already have," he said, after pausing to pick up his nightcap and put it into the pocket of his robes. "However, you may ask another, if you must."

"Well... You said that my magic isn't mine, and it's from outside of me, right?" I said, and he nodded. "Then how come I get tired when I charge up my wand?"

"I would have thought that would be obvious," he said, raising an eyebrow. He then sighed and shook his head. "Clearly, your generation does not measure up to mine."

I bit my lip and stayed silent. Arguing with a painting was not how I wanted to spend my lunchtime.

"It's not obvious. Please tell me, oh wise one," I said, unable to stop myself from adding a sarcastic title onto the end.

"Wise one? At least you're a good judge of character," he said, oblivious to the sarcasm. "You tire when charging your wand, because it takes energy for you to draw on magic that isn't yours. Expending that energy leaves you tired."

"Right, okay. And could the magic ever run out?" I asked.

"I should expect not," he said. "However, without knowing your exact nature, it is impossible to be certain."

"How long will it take to find out what I am?" I said. I was eager to find out, and hoped it wouldn't be too long.

"You cannot rush the mind of a genius," he said.

"Yeah, but can I rush your mind?" I snapped, tired of the portrait's smug superiority.

Phillinus did not look pleased. He glared at me, folded his arms, and refused to talk anymore. I gave up trying to get any information out of him, and decided to look for that other person he had mentioned - Wittle. If Phillinus hated him, he had to be good.

Unfortunately for me, finding Wittle was easier said than done. I had hoped that the other portraits would see Wynter talking to me, and stop ignoring me. It didn't take long for me to realise that this wasn't true. I might as well have been talking to muggle portraits - they would've responded exactly the same way. Eventually, I had to give up.

* * *

"Earth to Matt. Are you there?" Jamie asked, waving his hand in front of my face.

"Huh? What?" I said, moving backwards away from Jamie's hand. We were working together in charms, trying to conjure Bluebell Flames.

"You completely zoned out," Jamie said, "Like, you were just staring into space and ignoring me."

"Oh... Sorry. I was just, umm, deep in thought about something," I said. It was true. I had been replaying everything Phillinus Wynter had said, over and over, in my head.

"What was it?" Jamie asked.

"Nothing, nothing," I said. I wasn't sure how he would react if he found out I wasn't a real wizard. I knew I'd have to tell all of my friends, eventually, but now was not the time.

"Think about the spell instead, yeah? I don't want you setting me on fire," Jamie said.

"I can't cast it. Look-" I said, then attempted the spell. A few blue sparks shot from the end of my wand, then faded away into nothingness as they drifted towards the floor.

My wand gave me a hint as to what I was doing wrong. The liquid in the orbs would glow, but then when I went to cast the spell, the glow would fade. That meant I was drawing on magic correctly, but not properly converting it into a spell. Knowing that didn't help me to cast my spell properly.

As I was looking dejectedly at my wand, Celeste created a hovering orb of blue flames. As it hung in the air five feet from her, it grew from the size of a raisin, to the size of a grape, to the size of an apple. Professor Flitwick, the tiny charms teacher, awarded Gryffindor five points, which made Celeste smile widely.

"How do you do that?" I asked.

Celeste flicked her wand and the flames vanished with a puff of smoke.

"It's not really that difficult. I don't understand why you two are struggling with it. You've both done harder spells," Celeste said.

"No way. This one's the hardest yet," I said. Jamie nodded in agreement.

"Okay, well. What you need to do, is you need to picture the blue flames you want to make," Celeste said. "Would it be easier if I make some for you?"

Jamie and I both nodded. Celeste cast the spell again, and a new ball of fire appeared. Just like before, it rapidly grew in size.

"Then with your wand, you sort of need to draw the flames," Celeste said. "Not the shape, but, umm, the sort of flickering at the top."

"That's impossible," I said. How the hell was I meant to 'draw the flames' with my wand?

"Just watch my fire, and then copy that with your wand," Celeste advised, pointing her wand towards the successful charm.

I tried again, and managed to produce slightly more sparks than I had before. Jamie managed to drop his wand while trying to copy the fire's movement.

"I give up," Celeste said with an exaggerated sigh. "You boys are awful at this."

Jamie picked up his wand, and inspected it for damage from the drop. He let out a sigh of relief when he found none.

"Didn't wanna make any blue flames anyway," he muttered, wiping his wand clean on his robes. "Flames aren't meant to be blue. They're meant to be red."

"By the way," Celeste said, "I'm glad you're not fighting with the Slytherins as much. I think the whole rivalry thing is really stupid, so thank you for trying to calm it all down. It's really mature of both of you."

"Thank you," I said, while Jamie proved Celeste wrong by muttering about slimy Slytherins.

"Jamie," Celeste said sternly.

"Alright, sorry," Jamie said, looking sheepishly at his feet.

"There's really nothing wrong with Slytherins. They're just people too, and them being in a different house doesn't change that," Celeste said. She was vocally passionate about the subject. I agreed with her, but wasn't really willing to risk my reputation by saying it out loud.

"They're racists. They called me a mudblood!" Jamie said.

Celeste gasped a bit at the profanity. "That was really nasty of them. But it was ages ago."

"That-" Jamie started, but I interrupted.

"Stop. Stop," I said, raising my voice slightly. "We all know neither of you will change your mind, so there's no point in arguing."

* * *

"Do wizards have comic books?" I asked, voicing the stray thought that had come into my head. My cousin was always reading, or talking about, comic books, and it had been impossible for me not to share some of his enthusiasm. I had never seen a comic book in the wizarding world, however.

"Course we do," Toby said. "Why wouldn't we?"

The four of us - Toby, Jake, Jamie and I - were sitting around a table in the common room, having just finished our homework. Or, more accurately, Jake and I had done the homework, and the other two had copied us.

"Have you got any?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, I got one or two. C'mon, I'll show you," Toby said, putting his homework into his bag and standing up.

I followed him as he led me across the Common Room. As usual, it was full of life, laughter, and fun. Celeste and Rochelle were off on a sofa on the other side of the room, looking at a magazine and gossiping about it. Percy Weasley, Ginny's older brother and Gryffindor prefect, was telling off Fred and George Weasley for some kind of prank. Harry and Ron from the year above were laughing about something, while their friend Hermione was trying to nag them about their homework. The Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, was trying to explain strategies to a few of the girls on the team, who looked like they didn't really care.

Toby lead me up to the stairs to our dorm room, then went over to his four-poster bed. He opened one of the draws next to it. It was almost overflowing with all kinds of stuff. There were schoolbooks, sweets, socks, his wand maintenance kit, and more all in a haphazard jumble. He tore through the pile of stuff carelessly, and within a minute he found what he was looking for: comicbooks. He took them out of the draw, and then threw one at me. I snatched it out of the air, almost dropping it.

"Merlin's Revenge," I read off of the cover.

The picture was an ancient wizard in billowing robes - Merlin, probably - with a staff and wand. He was waving the staff through the air - moving, like a portrait - and fire was coming out of it, trailing behind. The tip of his wand kept flashing red as he fired off spells at an unseen target.

"Yeah. It was one of me favourites. Got a bit boring after the first two series, though," Toby said.

"Do you mind if I keep it?" I asked.

"All yours, mate. I don't need it no more, I've already read it all," Toby said.

"Thanks," I said, opening it up and looking at the moving pictures inside. I hadn't expected comic books to move, but then again, why wouldn't they? The portraits all did.

"No problem, mate," Toby said.

I sat down on my bed and started to read the comic.


	13. XIII: Happy Birthday

It was the 4th of April, and that meant that it was my birthday.

In an odd way, it made me feel sad. On my birthdays, my old friends and I always went to the local park, and then to pizza hut, before having a sleepover at my house. I had always looked forwards to that more than opening my presents. Waking up in Hogwarts meant that that carrying on that tradition wouldn't be possible this year, and the thought made me sad.

"Happy birthday!" Jake said, noticing that I was awake.

"Thanks," I said glumly.

"You alright?" Jake asked.

"Yeah. It's just... I had a tradition on my birthdays, but now I'm here, I can't continue it," I said.

"You'll just have to make a new tradition, then," Jake said. "Things change, and sometimes that's sad, but it's a chance to make new memories."

"Yeah, I will," I said, smiling.

"Happy birthday, Matt," Jamie said.

"Thanks."

"Oi! Hurry up and get ready. You don't wanna miss breakfast on your birthday, do ya?" Toby called from the other side of the room. He was fully dressed, sitting on his bed waiting for the rest of us.

"Course not. Going now," I said, amused by my friend's desire for food.

"Typical Toby," Jake mumbled. I laughed.

True to my word, I got out of bed, got my uniform from my bedside drawer, and went into the bathroom. I got dressed and brushed my teeth as quickly as I could, knowing that any delay would cause Toby to die of hunger. Not literally.

"I hope I get a cake," I said as the four of us made our way out of the dorm room.

"Don't think you do," Jamie said. "I didn't."

"That's awful," Toby said.

"Agreed," I said.

The Common Room was mostly empty. The majority of people were either having breakfast or still in bed. A few people were sitting at tables across the room, frantically doing their homework that they had left to the last minute. A few of the older students were sat together by the fire, drinking coffees. I had no idea where they got them, but in my time at Hogwarts I'd learnt that there were a lot of things that I couldn't explain. The girls in our year were just leaving through the portrait hole as we came down the stairs, and we hurried to catch up with them.

"I've heard they get cake at Beauxbatons," Jake said.

"Wish I'd gone there instead," Toby said.

"What, just because of the cake?" I asked.

"Just 'cos of the cake," Toby confirmed, nodding.

"You are absolutely obsessed with cake," I said as our group caught up with the girls.

"Good morning, boys," Celeste said, "What's all this about cake?"

"Matt doesn't get a birthday cake from Hogwarts, so Toby wants to move to Beauxbatons," Jake said, accurately summarising the situation.

"Happy birthday, Matt," Celeste said, before turning to face Toby. "There's a lot more to Beauxbatons than just cake. Did you know they have a choir of wood nymphs?"

As Celeste started to rattle off facts about Beauxbatons, Ginny gave me some good news.

"You don't have to go without cake. Fred and George showed me a secret entrance to the kitchens," she said. "I'll show you if you want."

"Steal from the kitchens? I don't know..." I said hesitantly.

"No, not steal. The house elves love having visitors to feed," Ginny said.

"There's house elves at Hogwarts?" I said, surprised. I'd heard of house elves before, but I had no idea that there were any who worked at Hogwarts.

"Duh," said three or four people at once.

We arrived at the Great Hall shortly afterwards, everyone chatting in twos and threes. The Great Hall was packed, as usual. Each of the four tables was swarmed with black-robed students, eating, drinking, and talking. A pair of girls on the Gryffindor table were panicking as their hair turned bogey green; the Weasley twins sat nearby, laughing. No doubt it was one of their pranks.

"So when are we gettin' the cake?" Toby asked once he had finished wolfing down his breakfast.

"I don't know. After tea, maybe?" I said.

"That long? Ugh," Toby said, folding his arms across his chest discontentedly.

"Patience, my friend."

* * *

END OF SCENE

* * *

"Potions on my birthday... That shouldn't be legal," I said as us Gryffindors walked into the potions classroom.

"If it was up to you, potions would be illegal all the time," Jake said.

"True," I said. "I'd be a good Magic Prime Minister."

"It's Minister of Magic," Celeste corrected.

"Same thing," I said.

The potions classroom could've done with some decorations to celebrate my birthday. A few red and gold balloons would've greatly enhanced the appearance of the room. As it was, the dark stone walls were like dementors, draining all happiness from the room - or maybe that was Snape, standing at the front of the room in his black robes. As I took my seat, I noticed Olivia glancing over at me.

"Today," Snape said, "You will be brewing the potions we studied in the previous lesson. You have two hours. Begin."

Jake and I got to work, but before we could get much done, Snape was looming over our table.

"I will not tolerate any more mishaps," he warned.

In the lesson before last, our potion had exploded. It had gone flying all over the room, splashing over the walls and ceiling and covering them in sticky green goo. Everyone who got it on them was unable to stop farting for hours, and it stunk out the entire classroom. I didn't blame Snape for not wanting a repeat of that disaster.

"There won't be any, sir," Jake said.

Seemingly satisfied, Snape swept over to another table.

"Way to put us under pressure," Jake mumbled, glaring at Snape's back.

"To be fair, I don't want that happening again. I think I still smell farts..." I whispered back.

We worked on our potion. I weighed the gillyweed we were given, cut it down until it was the right weight, then ground it into tiny pieces. I sprinkled it into the potion. Meanwhile, Jake was squeezing a bubotuber for it's pus. It smelt almost as bad as the classroom had after the farting disaster. As soon as it was added to the potion, the smell went away, replaced by a faint odour of smoke.

"Is it meant to smell of smoke?" I asked.

Jake looked down at his notes. "Apparently."

We kept working on our potion. After it started glowing red, Jake went off to the storeroom to get more supplies. While he was gone, a piece of parchment floated onto the table. On it was intricate handwriting. I picked it up and read it.

 _Spill your bag at the end, and tell your friends you'll catch up with them. I want to talk to you. Olivia._

I looked over at Olivia, but she was focused on her potion. I scrunched up the note, shoved it into my pocket, and went back to stirring the potion in front of me. Before long, Jake was back, and we continued working on the potion. It went well, and by the end it was a rich shade of purple, almost identical to the one described in the book. It smelt a bit different to how it should, but overall it was a well made potion.

As everyone was leaving, I tipped my bag over, and everything in it spilt all over the floor.

"Crap," I said.

My friends offered to help, but I insisted that, even though it was my birthday, I'd clean it up on my own. I didn't want to make them late for lunch, I told them. While I was picking everything up, Olivia was talking to Snape about some homework. Eventually I couldn't convincingly delay any longer, so I went and waited outside of the classroom. Olivia left the classroom around a minute later.

She closed the door behind her.

"Happy birthday," she said.

"How did you know?" I said.

"I'm just that clever," she said, winking. "Also, I heard you talking about it."

"Right. Thank you," I said.

"We're friends. Wishing you happy birthday is the least I could do," she said.

"I wish it was easier than this. Having to hide our friendship is stupid," I said.

"If only you'd been sorted into Slytherin," she said.

"Or if you'd been Gryffindor," I pointed out.

"No way. My mum would've disowned me if that happened," she said, sadness creeping into her tone. Then, her voice turned playful. "And anyway, I look better in green."

"You'd look good in any colour," I said impulsively, blushing once I realised what I'd said.

There was no point in trying to deny that I had meant what I said. I had. She was one of the prettiest girls in first year. All I could do was hope that she didn't react badly.

Olivia blushed and smiled at me. "Thank you."

She was even prettier when she was blushing. We talked for a little while longer, but before long I had to go and catch up with the other Gryffindors. Otherwise, they'd get suspicious.

* * *

"So where are the kitchens?" I asked Ginny at the end of dinnertime in the Great Hall.

"They're underneath us," Ginny said. "There's a painting of some fruits in the corridor outside, and you need to go through that to get in."

"How did you find out?" Rochelle asked.

"Fred and George showed me. Sometimes it's good to have six brothers," Ginny said.

"I don't have any siblings. What's it like?" I asked as Ginny led the way towards the kitchens. The other Gryffindors followed behind us.

"There's good and bad," she said. "Ron's an annoying prat sometimes, and Percy... Well, he's Percy. But the others are all alright. It never gets lonely at the Burrow, but you never get any peace either."

"Is living with Fred and George as chaotic as I'm imagining?"

"Not for me. I know the bag bogey hex, so they mostly prank Ron and Percy."

We went down some stairs, and into a long corridor. Hanging on the wall was a painting of a bowl of fruit. In the bowl was apples, pears, bananas... Every fruit I knew was in there, as well as some I didn't know.

"How do you get through?" I asked.

"You need to tickle one of them," Ginny said.

"Which one?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Ginny said.

All of us swarmed the painting, tickling every fruit. Jamie tickled a pear, and it turned into a green handle. He turned it, and swung the painting open. On the other side was an enormous room, with a high ceiling. It was full of house elves, hurrying around the room cleaning up after tea. They all wore identical tea-towel togas bearing the Hogwarts crest. We entered into the room, and immediately some house elves ran over.

"Tinky welcomes you to the kitchens," one of them said, bowing. "Would you be likings some food?"

"Yes please, Tinky," I said. "It's my birthday. Can I have a birthday cake please?"

"Yes, master! You is beings too kind," Tinky said.

Some other house elves brought over a gigantic cake. Toby looked so happy he could die. The elves brought over a table and chairs, and my friends and I dug into the cake. It was delicious, and we all talked happily as we ate it. I was happy, but I wished Olivia could've joined us.


	14. XIV: An Unfair Duel

As time passed, I only became more determined to find Wittle, Phillinus Wynter's rival and a potential source of information. Wynter was, so far, not providing me any answers as to what I was, but there was a chance that Wittle might be willing and able to.

In theory, what I had to do was simple. Find Wittle's portrait, talk him into helping me, using his rivalry with Wynter to persuade him, and let him figure it out. However, that was a lot easier said than done. I couldn't ask any of the people at Hogwarts where the portrait is, because they would get suspicious, and I didn't want anyone finding out that I wasn't a wizard. The ghosts all refused to acknowledge my existence, so I couldn't ask them. All of the portraits, except for Wynter, also ignored me. That meant searching the castle, room by room, was the only way to find Wittle. There was one problem with that: the castle was bloody huge.

That wasn't enough to stop me from trying.

It wasn't fun. Most of my free time was spent walking through the castle on my own, along winding corridors and up shifting staircases. I wasn't even able to admire how amazing Hogwarts looked, because my eyes were constantly facing towards the walls, reading the names of every portrait I passed. The feeling of hope that drove me to keep searching was diminishing with every portrait I checked, but I was determined that I would not quit. No matter how bored, how tired, how lonely I got while searching, I would always search again.

The latest search was going badly. Very, very badly.

"Oi, watch where you're going!" Gudgeon, a Slytherin boy in my year snarled, shoving me backwards.

I had turned a corner and walked straight into him. He wasn't alone, however. He was with four other Slytherins, including Olivia.

"I can't see around corners," I said, glaring at him.

"Oh, it's you," Gudgeon said contemptuously. "The annoying git from Gryffindor. And all on your own. What, do the Gryffindors hate you as much as we do?"

"No! I just do some things alone. I don't need a pack of snakes with me all the time," I said, before realising that snakes didn't have packs. Gudgeon wasn't the brightest, so there was a chance he wouldn't realise that.

"Get out of my way," Gudgeon said, shoving me to the side and walking past. The other Slytherins started to follow, but then one of them stopped suddenly.

"Weren't we just talking about how we needed to practice spells for Defence Against the Dark Arts?" he said. "I think Mason here might be able to help us with that."

"I'm kind of busy..." I said, realising what the Slytherin was saying. They were going to cast spells at me, and there was no way I could beat five of them.

The Slytherins, however, were drawing their wands. Except Olivia. I looked at her, silently begging for help. I drew my wand, backing away from the Slytherins and holding it in front of me like a sword.

"Join in, Olivia," one of the Slytherin girls said. "You know you want to."

"It's not really fair, five on one," she said, looking at her feet.

"Since when did you care about what's fair? You said that fair is for losers!" the girl said.

Olivia slowly drew her wand.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Gudgeon shouted suddenly, stepping forwards and stabbing his wand in my direction.

A red bolt of light shot towards me, and I jumped to the side. It hit the wall, and ricocheted off down the corridor. Red light flashed brightly each time the stray spell hit the stone walls. Olivia tried the same spell, but her aim was too high and I didn't even have to duck as it soared over my head,

" _Rictumsempera!"_ I said, casting the first spell that came to mind.

Gudgeon twisted out of the way. Meanwhile, two of the Slytherins both aimed a disarming spell at me. I dodged one, but not the other, and my wand went flying out of my hand. I tried to catch it, but it was out of my reach, and I could do nothing but watch as it landed at the feet of one of the Slytherins. Olivia cast another spell, but like the first one, it missed - this one going far to my right and out of a window.

" _Petrificus totalus_!" a Slytherin said.

I froze in place. My arms snapped to my sides and my feet came together. I tried to resist the spell and break free, but it was impossible. I was stuck.

"Good thinking, mate," Gudgeon said, giving the Slytherin who cast the spell on me a high-five. "Now for the fun part."

"One spell each," Olivia said suddenly.

"What? Why?" one of the Slytherins protested.

"I- We don't want to hurt him too badly," Olivia said. "Otherwise we'll lose loads of points. If we just do a little bit, he can say it was an accident."

"Why would he do that?" Gudgeon asked.

"Because if he doesn't, we'll get him again and again," Olivia said.

I closed my eyes and hoped for it to be over.

* * *

I lay in the corridor for a while - not by choice, but because I was still unable to move. I was covered in sticky green pus, and boils were spouting all over my face. It wasn't as bad as I had expected. The Slytherins, although they disliked me and I disliked them, weren't evil. Gudgeon caused the boils, but the others only cast the pus spell, which was gross, but harmless. A few had used the bludgeoning spell, but that didn't do any lasting harm. That didn't mean I wasn't furious at the Slytherins - and especially at Olivia. She was meant to be my friend, but she let it happen and even took part in it.

Eventually, I heard footsteps approaching. Someone knelt down in front of me, and mumbled a spell. My limbs relaxed, and I was able to move again. I struggled to get up, the sticky pus glueing me to the ground. I managed to fight through it and sit up. Olivia was kneeling in front of me.

"I'm really sorry," she said.

"Don't talk to me," I snarled, fighting through the pus to stand up. She was the last person I wanted to talk to after her betrayal.

"Matt, I didn't want to join in, but-" Olivia said, but I wasn't going to let her finish.

"I don't want to hear your excuses," I said. The pus was still stopping me from standing up, but it was starting to come loose.

"Please listen to me," Olivia begged. "I missed all of my spells, and I told them to only use one spell on you, and I came back to help you!"

I looked at her, glaring. Tears were shining in her eyes, and she was shaking. She looked utterly miserable, and it was impossible for me to keep glaring at her when she looked so distraught.

"Please forgive me," she said, not making eye contact.

I thought about it. She _had_ done everything she could to help me without destroying her reputation, and she _had_ come back and freed me. Despite that, I still felt betrayed, and it was an awful feeling. None of my friends had ever stabbed me in the back so badly before. I must have stood there for almost a minute, the corridor dead still, and silent but for Olivia's sniffling.

"Okay. I forgive you," I said.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Olivia squealed, throwing her arms around me.

She hugged me tightly, and buried her face into my shoulder as she cried. I put my arms around her, and hugged her back. After a while, she pulled away from me.

"Thank you," she said, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

"Never again," I warned. I still hadn't completely forgiven her.

"I promise."


	15. XV: Medicine & Truth

I hadn't expected to end up with boils all over my face and pus all over my robes when I set off on what felt like the millionth search for Wittle's portrait. Nor had I expected to be hugged by a crying Slytherin. However, that was exactly what had ended up happening. If there was one word to describe Hogwarts, it would be magical, but unpredictable wouldn't be far behind.

"Now I'm covered in pus," Olivia said, looking down at her robes.

Where she had hugged me, the pus on my robes had ended up spreading to her robes. It was getting everywhere - both of our robes, the floor where I had fallen, and the walls it had splashed up onto. The shade of green of the pus was surprisingly similar to the green of the Slytherin crest.

"You poor thing," I said sarcastically. I had meant for it to be said in a joking way, but I couldn't stop a hint of bitterness, a hint of venom, from creeping into my tone. "How horrible that must be."

"It's my fault, I know," Olivia said. "I think there's a spell to clean it off, but I can't remember what it is."

"Scourgify, maybe?" I guessed.

"That's it! Scourgify," Olivia said, and her robes were clean; "scourgify," and so were mine.

The instant that the pus vanished from existence, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I hadn't realised quite how much it weighed.

"I don't suppose you've got a spell for the boils?" I asked, hopefully.

"No, I don't. Sorry," Olivia said, putting her wand away.

"I'm off to the hospital wing, then," I said. "Bye."

"Wait," Olivia said, as I was turning to leave. "Why were you walking around alone? I thought you had lots of friends in Gryffindor."

If she had asked the day before, I would have considered telling her that I was looking for Wittle's portrait - but no more than that. But after what had happened earlier, even though I had forgiven her, my trust in her was still damaged. There was no way I was going to tell her after she had taken part in cursing me. My friends, on the other hand, I would be letting know at least some of what I was looking for, and most likely not going off alone again.

"I do," I said. "I just like to do some things alone."

"That's not safe," Olivia said.

"You're right. I might get attacked by some Slytherins," I said accusingly.

"Sorry," Olivia said, blushing guiltily.

"Bye," I said again.

"Bye."

I left.

* * *

"A potions accident?" Madam Pomfrey, the matron of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, asked.

The Hospital Wing was a long room, with a low roof. Light shone in through the ornately framed windows lining the exterior wall, illuminating the rows of white beds, some of which contained students in various stages of injury. I noticed Colin Creevey, lying perfectly still in a bed at the far end of the room. I missed him. A door tucked near the far corner of the room lead into Madam Pomfrey's office, from which she had emerged when I arrived into the Hospital Wing.

"Yes," I said with false confidence.

"A potions accident gave you the exact symptoms of the _furnunculus_ jinx?" she said, scepticism clear in her tone of voice.

"Yes," I said, more doubtfully this time.

"That is an oddly common occurrence at Hogwarts," she said, with fake curiosity. "We keep a large stock of the Cure for Boils for that very reason, you'll be glad to hear."

"That's good," I said.

I was relieved that Madam Pomfrey didn't try to find out the real reason behind the boils. It made sense, though. There must be dozens of duels that end up in the Hospital Wing every year at Hogwarts, and if those involved didn't want to admit it, it would be more difficulty than it's worth to try to find out the details. And Madam Pomfrey's job wasn't punishing duelling students, it was healing them.

Madam Pomfrey left the room, went into her office, and returned with a potion. She handed it to me and I drunk it, grimacing at the horrible taste. It was like a grotesque combination of snot and broccoli. I couldn't imagine a worse taste, but I forced myself to drink it. It was that, or walk around with a face covered in itchy boils. The potion was the lesser of two evils.

"Thank you," I said, handing the empty potions bottle back to Madam Pomfrey.

I left the Hospital Wing and made my way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. The first hints of sunset were starting to show through the windows, and I wanted to be back before dark. There was something very creepy about Hogwarts at night, with the way the firelight from the torches danced across the walls and flung menacing shadows across the ground. Maybe it was just me being cynical, but I suspected that the effect was deliberately created by the staff, as an attempt to discourage students from being out after curfew.

"Galloping gargoyles," I said to the Fat Lady when I reached the entrance to the Common Room, and the portrait swang open to let me in.

I went into the Common Room. As usual, it was packed full of Gryffindors, spread out across all the chairs and sofas in the room. The room was a sea of red - the red cloth of the furniture, the red trim on everyone's robes, and the flickering red light coming from the furniture all contributed to the effect. It made the room feel warm and cosy - it made it feel like home. In a way, it was a home away from home.

I spotted my friends sitting at our usual table and made my way over. Jake and Jamie were playing Wizard's Chess. Jamie was clearly winning - his pieces had Jake's far outnumbered on the board, and Jake was scowling at the chess board while Jamie was grinning smugly. Toby was reading a comic book, trails of ink racing across the page as the pictures shifted in real time. I sat down in the more comfortable looking of the two empty chairs.

"Alright, mate?" Toby said, looking up from his comic.

"Yeah, alright. You?" I said.

"Not bad, thanks," Toby said. "Where were you all day?"

I hesitated for a moment. Should I tell my friend that I was searching for Wittle's portrait, and risk him finding out that I wasn't a wizard - risk the world finding out that I wasn't a wizard. I decided to leave it for another day, but after only a couple of seconds, I changed my mind. If I couldn't tell my friends the truth, then I didn't deserve the right to call them friends.

"I've been looking for a portrait," I said.

"There's load of 'em... Why d'you need to spend ages looking?" Toby asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"A specific portrait. Of a man called Wittle," I said.

"Who? Why d'you need to find his portrait?" Toby asked, closing his comic book and putting it down on the table.

Jamie and Jake were no longer focusing on their chess game. Instead, they were both looking at me, identical expressions of curiosity fixed upon their faces.

"It's a Wittle bit of a mystery," Jamie joked.

"I can't really say why," I said. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't."

"More than just a Wittle bit of a mystery..." Jamie said, amending his previous statement.

"I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you," I said, looking down at the chess board.

"It's alright, Matt. We're your friends, we trust you, and if you can't tell us, then you can't tell us," Matt said.

"Yeah," Toby said, nodding in agreement.

"Thanks," I said. "Also, I got in a fight with some Slytherins."

"You what? How did you get away without getting hurt?" Toby asked.

"I'm just that good at duelling, apparently," I said. "That or Madam Pomfrey is good at her job. Take a guess which one."

"The second one?" Jake suggested.

"Why so little faith in me, Jake?" I said.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Jake said.

"Yeah," I admitted.

Jake and Jamie went back to their chess game, and Toby picked his comic book back up. I ran up to the dorm room, and got the copy of _Merlin's Revenge_ Toby gave me out of my bedside drawer. I was about halfway through the comic, and it was getting more exciting with each and every page I turned. It was hard to put down - in the muggle sense of the word. It wasn't cursed to be impossible to put down. I took it downstairs, and rejoined my friends.


	16. XVI: Her Skeleton Will Lie

"I swear that spell is impossible," I said to Jake.

We had just had transfiguration, our last lesson of the day. We had been learning a spell to turn a china teacup into a bouncy ball, and I had not been able to succeed. I could make a bouncy teacup, or a china ball, but I couldn't make a bouncy ball to save my life. Jake and I managed five shattered china balls and two bouncy teacups between us before giving up entirely. Professor McGonagall had not been pleased.

"Yeah, it is," Jake said. "If I ever need a bouncy ball and I've only got a teacup, I'm screwed."

"That happen often?" I asked, grinning.

"All the time," Jake said.

We - all of the first year Gryffindors - reached the long, winding staircase leading up to the Gryffindor common room's portrait-door.

"It ain't even hard," Toby said.

"It is," I said.

"Isn't."

"Is."

"Isn't."

"Is."

"Isn't."

"Stop," begged Celeste. "You're giving me a headache."

"Sorry," Toby and I said simultaneously.

"Forget headaches, these stairs are making my lungs ache," Rochelle panted.

"Look on the bright side," I said. "By the end of our time at Hogwarts, these stairs will have made us all really fit."

"Not worth it," Rochelle said.

After years and years of climbing, the stairs were completed and we were standing near the Fat Lady's portrait. Ginny was the first one to the portrait, but she didn't say the password. Instead, she waited for Celeste to say it. Ginny had been acting a bit strangely recently - she had been antisocial, writing in her diary more often than talking to other people; she had been sad and distant when anyone talked to her; and she seemed nervous and jumpy.

Once we were into the common room, the boys and the girls separated. Jake and Jamie raced over to our normal place, both of them hoping to get the comfiest chair first. Jamie was faster, and Jake slumped unhappily into another chair. Toby shook his head while smiling, and sat down in the nearest chair to the door. I was the last to sit down.

"You're obsessed with getting the best chair, ain't you?" Toby asked Jake and Jamie.

"It's so comfy," Jamie said, grinning.

"And the others are awful," Jake grumbled.

There was a comfortable silence for a minute or so. We all needed a bit of time to clear our minds after a stressful lesson.

"Has anyone else noticed," I said, breaking the silence, "that Ginny seems really quiet and sad recently?

"Nah, I noticed that too," Jamie said.

"Why do you think that is?" I asked.

"She's probably scared of the Chamber of Secrets again, after that Hermione girl was petrified," Jamie said.

"Probably," I said, nodding. "Was she like this when it first opened? I can't remember."

"Yeah, I think she was," Jamie said.

"'Specially with Dumbledore gone. We was safest when he was here," Toby said.

Professor Dumbledore had been removed as Headmaster by the Board of Governors. Apparently, they weren't happy with his failure to stop the Chamber of Secrets from remaining open. How they expected him to do that was a mystery.

"I still can't believe they sacked him," Jake said. "Idiots."

"Complete idiots," I said.

* * *

 _"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers to the staff room. Immediately, please,"_ Professor McGonagall's voice announced, coming from everywhere and nowhere.

"What the hell?" I said, frowning in confusion.

Jake and I were in a corridor near the library, having just finished some particularly tricky homework. We were on our way back to the common room when the announcement had invaded our ears.

"There's probably been another attack," Jake said, subconsciously moving his hand to hover by the pocket containing his wand. "A serious one. They didn't do this for the other attacks..."

We hurried to the Gryffindor common room. My heart jumped with every corner we turned. I could have sworn that I could hear a faint voice, whispering of murder and death, but it was probably just my mind playing tricks on me. Before long, we reached the safety of the common room. The room felt secure, with it's thick stone walls and the portrait entrance unknown to Slytherins.

The room filled up quickly. The portrait was constantly swinging open to let in groups of Gryffindors - some looking confused, some looking scared. Toby and Jamie joined us at our usual table, and we interrogated them, but they didn't know any more than we did. The room was full of noise, but it wasn't the usual chatting and laughing. Instead, it was frantic whispers, echoing off the walls to create a sound like the hissing of a snake.

Eventually, Professor McGonagall came through the portrait hole, and stood at the front of the room. Everyone fell silent, waiting with bated breath to hear what she had to say.

"It is with great regret that I must announce that a student has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets," McGonagall said. "Hogwarts shall have to be closed until your safety can be guaranteed. The Hogwarts Express will be arriving tomorrow to take you all home."

"Who?" someone called out.

"Ginny Weasley," McGonagall said.

My heart sank. Ginny didn't deserve such a horrible fate. She was kind and caring and loyal and funny. She never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. Why, of all the people in Hogwarts, did it have to be her who was taken into the Chamber? I could tell that my friends were thinking the same thing. Wishing it hadn't been Ginny. Wishing that it could have been them instead.

Across the room, Celeste was holding back tears, while Rochelle was sobbing. Fred and George Weasley, for the first time in the year I had known them, were deathly pale and silent as the grave. Percy Weasley fled up the stairs, his face sad but determined. Ron Weasley looked utterly miserable. Even the older students who didn't know Ginny were upset - they might not have known her, but everyone in Hogwarts knew the Weasleys.

The room was silent as the sun started to set, casting long shadows across the room.

It didn't even make sense. Ginny was a pureblood, and the Heir's goal was to cleanse Hogwarts of muggleborns. Everyone knew that. No one had expected it would be Ginny taken... Except for Ginny. She had been terrified, and every time the Chamber had been mentioned she had been close to tears. There must have been something that only she knew, something that made her a target for the heir. That might have been information the Heir needed; and maybe, just maybe, that meant that she might still be alive.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley got up and started walking towards the portrait. It was obvious where they were going - the Chamber of Secrets. As they walked past me, I stood up. Ginny was in grave danger, and I would never abandon a friend.

"You're going to save her, aren't you?" I said. "You know where the Chamber is."

"We _think_ we know where it is. Lockhart's going to try and get in, so we're going to tell him," Ron said.

"I'm coming with you. Ginny's my friend, I want to help save her," I said.

"No. It's too dangerous. There's a basilisk in the Chamber," Harry said. "It could be crawling through the corridors."

"Then you need all the help you can get," I insisted.

"Alright," Harry said.


	17. XVII: In The Chamber

I was terrified.

Every corridor seemed to stretch on forever, and the flickering torchlight that illuminated them seemed sinister and ominous, where in the past it had always been warm and welcoming. Every time we rounded a corner, a shiver ran down my spine. The Heir and his fearsome monster could be lurking in the next corridor, ready to pounce and slay us. I could hear a faint hissing, a hissing I now knew came from a giant snake with murder in its eyes.

I put my hand in my pocket, ready to draw my wand, and kept on moving. _Bravery is not the absence of fear,_ I told myself, _it is being scared, and carrying on regardless._

After what felt like an eternity, Harry and Ron stopped outside a door. Emblazoned on the door were the words 'Gilderoy Lockhart' in gold letters, so I assumed that it must be the door to his office. A racket was coming from beyond the door: muffled thumps and hurried footsteps.

"What's going on in there?" I asked.

"Let's find out," Harry said, before raising his fist and knocking on the door.

Instantly, all sound from beyond the door stopped. There was silence for a few seconds, and then the door opened a crack. Lockhart peeked through the gap, and his eyes widened when he saw the three of us waiting to be let in.

"Oh - Mr Potter - Mr Weasley - Mr Mason," he said. "I'm rather busy at the moment - if you would be quick -"

"Professor, we've got some information for you," Harry said, not letting Lockhart finish. "We think it'll help you."

"Er - well - it's not terribly -" Lockhart stuttered, stumbling over his words and clearly unsure of what to say. "I mean - well all right."

Lockhart swung the door all the way open, and the three of us entered the room.

It looked nothing like I had been expecting. The walls were bare, holding not a single portrait or picture; the desk was clear; the wardrobe was wide open, revealing it's empty interior. I had been expecting walls covered in pictures, a desk piled high with fanmail, and a wardrobe packed full of brightly coloured robes. I looked down and saw two trunks open in the middle of the floor, each of them full of Lockhart's belongings. There was also a trio of boxes, with pictures in each of them.

"What the hell?" I murmured.

"Are you going somewhere?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Er, well, yes," Lockhart said, taking a poster down from the inside of the door and rolling it up like a scroll. "Urgent call - unavoidable - got to go -"

"What about my sister?" Ron snapped, balling his hands up into fists and glaring.

"Well, as to that - most unfortunate," Lockhart said, not making eye contact with any of us as he emptied a drawer into a bag. "No one regrets more than I -"

"You're the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well - I must say - when I took the job - nothing in the job description - didn't expect," Lockhart said, still packing his stuff up.

"You mean you're running away? After all that stuff you did in your books?" Harry said, surprise in his belief.

"Books can be misleading," Lockhart said, slamming on of his trunks shut and wrestling with the zip.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

"He's a bloody fraud," I said numbly. I had been calling him a fraud for months, but that didn't stop me from being shocked when given undeniable proof that he was a liar, undeniable proof that he had never done any of the things he had claimed to in his books.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. Use your common sense, boys. Do you think my books would have sold half as well as they did if people didn't think it was _me_ doing them things?" Lockhart said condescendingly. "No one wants to read about some Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look awful on the cover. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee? She has a harelip! I mean, come on -"

"So you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" Harry said.

"Harry, Harry. It's not nearly as simple as that. There was a lot of work involved. I had to track these people down. Find out exactly how they did what they did. Put memory charms on them so they wouldn't remember what they did. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my memory charms. No, it's a lot of hard work, Harry. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog," Lockhart said.

He slammed the lid shut on the other truck, and did it up tightly.

"Let's see," he said, looking around the room. "Yes, I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He drew his wand and raised it on us. I stood there, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"Awfully sorry, boys, but I'll have to put a memory charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place, can I? I'd never sell another book!" Lockhart said. "Ob -"

"Expelliarmus!" Harry cried, waving his wand.

Lockhart's wand shot out of his hand and arced through the air towards us. Ron reacted quickly, snatching it out of the air and lobbing it through an open window and out of the castle. It plummeted out of sight.

"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one," Harry said, kicking one of Lockhart's trunks off to the side. He kept his aim on Lockhart, ready to respond to any sudden movement.

"What d'you want me to do?" Lockhart whined. "I don't know where the Chamber is. There's nothing I can do."

"We know where it is," I said.

"And what's in there," Harry added. "Let's go."

Ron lead the way. Lockhart followed him, Harry's wand pointed at his back. I was at the rear of the group, and I kept checking behind us. If the Heir tried to ambush us from behind, I would be the first to know it.

We passed by the towering red writing on the wall announcing the Chamber's opening. Another sentence had been added: "Her body will lie in the Chamber forever." _Not if I can do anything about it,_ I thought. Ron lead the way into a girl's bathroom. I stayed at the door, and kept my wand raised.

Inside of the bathroom, I could hear Harry interrogating a ghost, and then talking with Ron. He said open up, and Ron gasped. I turned around the see one of the sinks vanished amidst bright white light, revealing a dark tunnel plummeting into the depths, just about wide enough for a man.

"I'm going in," Harry said.

"Me too," Ron and I said simultaneously.

"Well, you boys clearly don't need me, so I'll -" Lockhart said, backing away.

"No," I said. "You're going in first. If there's a trap, you can set it off for us."

Lockhart didn't like it at all. He went as white as fresh paper. The three of us all had our wands aimed at him, though, which meant he had no choice but to go down the tunnel. Harry went next, and then Ron, and then it was my turn. I briefly considered running away, but decided against it quickly. There was no way I could abandon a friend.

I climbed into the tunnel, and slid down. It twisted and turned rapidly, like a rollercoaster. Entrances to smaller side tunnels blurred past at the edge of my vision. Ahead of me, I could hear Ron thudding into corners. Wet slime was seeping through my robes. Suddenly, the tunnel levelled off and I went tumbling out of the end onto damp stone.

I stood up. I was in a tall, wide, and very dark tunnel. I could barely see the other three, and they were all within ten feet of me. I cast the _lumos_ spell, and my wand lit up like a torch, illuminating the long tunnel of dark stone we were standing in. Harry cast his own _lumos_ spell.

"We must be miles under the school," Harry said.

"Under the lake, probably," Ron said.

"Let's keep going," Harry said. "And remember - any sign of movement, close your eyes right away."

I wasn't an expert on basilisks, but I knew that their gaze was fatal. We moved down the tunnel, and passed by the skin of a basilisk, shed long ago. The basilisk must have been massive, because the skin stretched for twenty feet.

Lockhart hit me in the face. Stars exploded across my vision, as blood spurted from my nose. I lost my grip on my wand and fell to the floor. All I could hear was ringing in my ears.

"-tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body." Lockhart was shouting when my hearing returned. He whipped my wand above his head, then jabbed it towards Harry and Ron. "Obliviate!"

Nothing happened.

"Obliviate!" Lockhart shouted again.

Once again, nothing happened. He looked at my wand in confusion, then threw it to the floor. It bounced off the ground, and then skidded away from us. Lockhart charged Harry, but he twisted out of the way, and aimed his own wand, and shouted " _petrificus totalus_!"

Lockhart's feet came together, his hands snapped to his sides, and his knees straightened. He froze.

I got up and walked over to my wand. I picked it up, and inspected it for damage. Thankfully, the wand was undamaged - unlike my nose. Blood was still seeping from it, and dripping down onto my robes. I walked over to Lockhart, and kicked him to the ground.

"Git," I spat.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"Mostly. Just a nosebleed," I said, playing down the extent of my injury. I suspected my nose was broken.

"Do you want to stay here and guard Lockhart?" Harry offered.

"Hell no," I said. "I'm coming with you and saving Ginny."

We continued down the tunnel - three of us, now that Lockhart was under a body binding charm. The tunnel turned, and turned again, and turned again. We came to face a wall, with two serpents carved into it.

"How do we get past it?" I asked.

"Probably with Parseltongue. Harry?" Ron said.

"Open," Harry said, and the wall parted in the middle.

The two sides slowly slid apart to reveal a gigantic room on the other side. At the far end of the room, I could just about see a towering statue of an old wizard, with a long beard stretching down to his feet.

Between his feet was Ginny, lying still on the floor.

"Here we go," I said as we made our way into the Chamber.

The Chamber really was enormous. I had always thought that the Great Hall in the castle above was huge, but it seemed tiny in comparison to the Chamber of Secrets. Towering stone pillars, carved with stone serpents, rose from the ground and vanished into the darkness above, casting long black shadows across the mossy stone floor.

We ran, as fast as our legs could carry us. The statue in the distance slowly grew larger and larger in my vision, and the details became clearer. The crest of Slytherin embroidered on the breast pocket of the robes. The ornate patterns of snakes dancing across the shaft of the wand. The cruel expression in the eyes of the man, who could only have been Salazar Slytherin himself.

"Ginny!" Ron shouted as we got close. "Ginny! Ginny!"

He accelerated rapidly, from running to full on sprinting, and in seconds he was at his sister's side. Harry followed quickly after, and joined Ron at Ginny's side, tossing his wand to the floor. I stayed five feet away from them, facing away into the Chamber. Someone needed to watch their backs, in case the Heir attacked them from behind.

"Please don't be dead - please don't be dead - Ginny, please wake up," Harry muttered desperately, while Ron was gripping Ginny's hands and whispering to her.

"She won't wake," a soft voice said.

I reacted quickly, turning to face the origin of the voice and raising my wand. A tall student with dark hair was leaning against a nearby pillar. There was something strange about his appearance - he seemed faint and indistinct, as though he wasn't fully solid.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"Tom - Tom Riddle?" Harry said. He had turned around and got up, but Ron was still by his sister's side.

The boy - Riddle - nodded. His eyes were fixed on Harry's face, and he was ignoring Ron and I completely.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake? She's not - she's not -" Harry said, his voice cracking.

"She's alive," Riddle said. "But only just."

I heard a sigh of relief from Ron.

"Are you a ghost?" Harry asked.

Riddle shook his head. "A memory. Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

He pointed to a book lying on the floor. I looked at it - it was a small diary with a black cover. It was wide open, but the pages were blank. It looked really familiar; I had seen it before, but where?

"You've got to help us, Tom," Harry said. "We've got to get her out of here. There's a basilisk... I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment. Please, help us."

Ron was trying to pick Ginny up, but her robes were soaked with water and slime, and she was too heavy for him. I joined him, and together we lifted her up from the floor. Harry reached for his wand, but it was gone.

"Did you see -" Harry said, before seeing his wand in Riddle's hand. He must have picked it up while my back was turned. "Thanks."

Riddle didn't react, he just twirled Harry's wand around his fingers idly, as though he was in a boring lesson.

"Listen," Harry said. "We've got to go! If the basilisk comes -"

"It won't come until it is called," Riddle said in a voice that made the hairs on my back stand up, and sent a chill running down my spine.

"What d'you mean. Look, give me my wand, I might need it," Harry said, extending a hand to take his wand.

"You won't be needing it," Riddle said.

"What d'you mean, I won't be -"

"I've waited a very long time for this, Harry Potter. For the chance to see you. To speak to you."

"Look. I don't think you get it. We're in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later -"

"We're going to talk now."

"Riddle, you don't understand," I said, drawing my wand with my free hand. "We're in danger, and Ginny needs medical help. Now isn't the time. Now give Harry back his wand."

Riddle looked at me for the first time. Curiosity showed on his face for a moment, and then he was back to his normal expressionlessness. He turned to face Harry again.

"How did Ginny get like this?" Harry asked.

"Well, that's an interesting question. And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is that she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"Her diary," I said, hit by a sudden realisation. The book on the floor was her diary, and she was always pouring her heart out into it. Riddle must have put a curse on the diary!

" _My_ diary," Riddle said. "Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes - how her brothers tease her -"

Ron looked guilty for a moment.

"How she had to come to school with second-hand robes and books, how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her. It's very boring -"

"Shut up!" I snapped, raising my wand at Riddle. "Tell us how to heal her. Now."

"If you want to know what has happened to little Ginny, then remain silent," Riddle said.

I lowered my wand slightly.

"It's very boring, listening to the troubles of a little girl. But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me," Riddle said, before switching to a crude imitation of Ginny's voice. "No one's ever understood me like you, Tom. I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in. It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket."

Ron was seething. He drew his wand, but I caught his eye and shook my head. If we wanted to help Ginny, we needed to know exactly what had happened to her.

"If I say it myself, boys, I've always been able to charm the people I needed to. So Ginny poured her soul out to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my own secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"Haven't you guessed yet? Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters, she daubed threatening messages on the walls, she set the Serpent of Slytherin on four mudbloods and the Squib's cat."

Ron went very pale and swayed unsteadily on his feet.

"No," Harry whispered.

"No, you did," I said. "I don't know how you did it, but you made her do those things. It might have been her body, but it definitely was not her mind. It was yours."

"You realised that far quicker than she did. It took her a very long time to stop trusting her diary, but she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you come in, Harry Potter. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was anxious to meet," Riddle said.

"Why are you interested in me?" Harry asked.

Riddle looked as though he wanted to launch into another long rant, but instead he kept it brief.

"How is it that you, a skinny boy with no extraordinary powers, managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?"

"Why do you care? Voldemort was after your time?"

"Voldemort is my past, present, and future," Riddle said, waving Harry's wand.

The words 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' appeared in the air in letters of burning fire. They stayed for a second, and then rearranged themselves into a new order. 'I am Lord Voldemort.'

"Expel-" I shouted.

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

My wand shot out of my hand, and into Riddle's.

"You're not," Harry said.

"Not what?" Riddle asked, pocketing my wand.

"Not the greatest wizard of all time. Sorry to disappoint you, but that's Dumbledore. Everyone says so."

"Dumbledore was driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me."

"He's not as gone as you might think."

I heard music - eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly music. I didn't just hear the music, I felt it, washing through my body and sending tremors down my spine. The room seemed to get warmer, and then flames erupted in the air above me. Ron and I ducked, almost dropping Ginny, as heat washed over us.

A crimson bird dove down from above us, sweeping narrowly over our heads, and them came to a stop between Harry and Riddle. I watched it in awe and fascination. Red and gold rippled over its feather, looking like waves of fire were engulfing it. A tail of glittering gold stretched out below it, catching the light that washed over the floor below with every flap of its wings. In its golden claws it held a bundle of black cloth.

"That's a phoenix," Riddle said.

"Dumbledore's phoenix," I said, remembering the phoenix from my visit to Dumbledore's office at the start of the year.

"Fawkes," Harry added.

"And that," Riddle said, nodding towards Fawkes' claws, "that's the school's old sorting hat."

Fawkes dropped it. Riddle was right, it was the sorting hat, in all of it's old, frayed, worn out glory.

Riddle laughed. "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender. A songbird and and old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now, with your disarmed friends and Dumbledore's useless gifts?"

Riddle launched into another of his tirades, and I took the chance to whisper to Ron.

"Did he get your wand?" I asked.

"No," Ron said.

"Use it to distract him," I said. "He's a memory stored in the diary, right? So if you distract him, I can tear the diary in half..."

"Bloody hell, that might work," Ron said.

By unspoken agreement, we gently laid Ginny on the ground.

"On my count. 3... 2... 1..." I said. "Now!"

Ron stepped forwards, whipping his wand out of his pocket. I dashed off to the side, towards the diary.

" _Furunculus!_ " Ron shouted jabbing his wand at Riddle.

Riddle sidestepped the spell, moving quickly but calmly. He drew my wand from his pocket. That was good, it wouldn't work for him - it hadn't for Lockhart - and would buy me time. I looked away and continued sprinting for the diary.

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

I hurled myself forwards and slid across the floor to the diary. I couldn't waste a second, time was running out. I grabbed the book, held one side of the cover in each hand, and pulled. I pulled and pulled. My muscles screamed in protest at the exertion.

"Useless wand," Riddle said, and a split-second later the sound of a wand hitting the floor hits my ears.

I kept tugging on the book, but it refused to come apart. I wasn't strong enough. I swore, using words that would make a grown adult blush, and kept on pulling. Surely the diary would come apart eventually...

" _Expelliarmus_ ," Riddle hissed. " _Stupefy!_ "

I heard Ron gasp, and then thud against one of the columns.

"You are lucky, Mister Weasley, that I don't wish to spill pure blood in this Chamber," Riddle said. I heard footsteps, and knew he was turning to face me. "But _you_ are not pureblood. Only mud runs through your veins, despite that aura around you."

I ignored him. I could feel the diary starting to give way - or maybe that was wishful thinking?

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

I twisted towards Riddle, and saw a sickly green bolt of light flying towards me. On instinct, I raised the diary and held it as a shield against the mysterious curse. I felt myself grow weak as the spell came closer and closer and closer...

And then -

the spell hit -

there was a flash of green light -

and the diary shot out of my hands and skidded across the floor. Green flames burst into life, hungrily devouring the pages of the diary. I flopped to the floor and closed my eyes, exhausted.

"No..." Riddle gasped.

I look up at Riddle to see that he had fallen to his knees. His form was flickering, and with each flicker he grew slightly less distinct, slightly less solid, slightly less real. Suddenly, his expression morphed from fear to determination.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four," Riddle said in a voice that was more serpentine than human.

There was a rumbling from above, and the statue of Salazar Slytherin opened its mouth. I could just about make out movement inside the statue - something big, something terrifying.

"Kill him," Riddle said, his voice growing faint.

"Close your eyes!" Harry shouted.

I kept my eyes open, looked at the ground, and struggled to my feet. I half limped, half ran over towards Ron and Ginny, grabbing my wand as I passed by it. I took off my robe and threw it over their heads - if they woke up, they would see my robe, not the basilisk. Then, I collapsed to the ground and closed my eyes. I tried to get back up, but I was too weak. The curse might not have hit me, but it still weakened me just by being so close.

A dreadful scream pierced the air and echoed through the Chamber, the sound being amplified with each echo and filling my ears. Then - it stopped. Cold air swept across me, chilling me to the bone. I knew Riddle was gone.

I was too weak to carry on. It was up to Harry to defeat the basilisk, and save us all.


	18. XVIII: Forever

Walking through the corridors of the castle, on the way to let Lockhart know about the basilisk, had seemed terrifying at the time. Compared to what I was feeling now, though, it seemed almost relaxing.

I could hear the fight going on. Fawkes the Phoenix was screeching. The Basilisk was hissing and snapping its jaws. Harry was mumbling something, too quiet for me to hear. Every sound made my heart jump. At any moment, the Basilisk could lunge at me with its huge fangs, and I wouldn't know until it got me. I couldn't do anything about that. If I opened my eyes, I was dead.

Suddenly, I heard a new sound: a faint, feminine moan. Ginny was waking up.

"Keep your eyes closed," I said.

"What..." Ginny mumbled.

I turned my head to face Ginny, and peeked out of one eye. She was starting to sit up, and was about to remove my robe from over her head. I pulled myself across the ground, and pushed her back down.

"There's a basilisk. Keep your eyes closed," I said, closing my eye.

"A basilisk?" Ginny said, confused.

"We're in the Chamber of Secrets," I said. "Ron's here too, and Harry Potter."

"Oh!" Ginny said, realising where we were and what was happening. "It was me, Matt, I o-opened the Chamber - b-but I didn't mean to, I swear - R-Riddle made me."

Ginny was crying, and she was struggling to talk through her sobs.

"I know. Riddle told us," I said. "It's not your fault."

"W-where is Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary -" she said.

"He's gone. We destroyed the diary," I said.

"T-thank you," she said.

She kept crying, but she was less hysterical than she had been before.

"Don't thank us yet," I said. "The basilisk is still alive. Harry's fighting it now."

"What about Ron?" she asked.

I wasn't sure if Ron would be okay. I didn't recognise the spell Riddle used. Riddle had said he didn't want to spill pure blood, though, so that meant Ron would probably survive.

"He's unconscious. He'll be okay, though," I said with fake confidence.

I heard a cry of pain from Harry, and then a deafening hiss from the Basilisk. A few moments of horrifying silence passed, and then I heard the sound of metal clattering to the floor.

"It's dead!" Harry shouted.

I opened my eyes and struggled to my knees. I summoned the little energy I had left, and stood up. Next to me, Ginny threw my robe off of her and Ron. I stumbled towards Harry, while Ginny tried to get Ron to wake up. As I got close to Harry, he collapsed onto the ground, grasping his arm. I knelt down beside him.

"Harry. What's wrong? Did it bite you?" I asked.

Harry nodded, gritting his teeth. I looked at his arm, and saw a gruesome sight. One of the Basilisk's fangs had come out of its mouth and dug into Harry's arm. Blood was pouring from the wound, and the skin around it was a sickly shade of green.

I put one hand on Harry's arm, just below the fang, and then with my other hand, ripped it out.

Fawkes swooped down from above and landed on Harry's shoulder. The phoenix then laid its head down on the wound, and began to cry. Thick, pearly tears streamed down its face before dripping onto Harry's arm. They sank into the wound. The green colour spreading through the limb starting to fade, the bleeding stopped, and the flesh knitted itself back together. Where only seconds ago there had been a bloody hole, there was now a patch of healthy flesh.

"Fawkes..." Harry mumbled, staring at the bird in amazement. "You're wonderful."

Fawkes jumped from Harry's shoulder, and flew onto mine. He cried onto me. The ache in my limbs faded away, going from near agony, to barely tolerable, to slightly painful, to painless. My vision became sharper, as did my hearing. Energy coursed through my veins.

"Thank you, Fawkes," I said.

The phoenix flew to the other side of the Chamber, where Ginny was still trying to wake Ron up. I began to shiver as the adrenaline wore off. It was freezing in the Chamber, especially without my robe.

"You really are a hero, Harry," I said. "I heard rumours about the whole Philosopher's Stone thing, but I never believed them until now."

I could hear Ron on the other side of the Chamber. Fawkes must have woken him up with his magical tears.

"So are you," Harry said. "You're the one who destroyed Riddle. All I did was stab a snake."

I laughed at how humble Harry was being. He had just slain the monster of the Chamber, and he was shrugging off the praise I was trying to give him.

"Stab a snake? That thing -" I said, pointing at the dead Basilisk, "- is not just a snake."

"I couldn't have done it without Fawkes, or the Sorting Hat," Harry said, still unwilling to accept praise.

"The Sorting Hat?" I asked. Was I hearing things, or had Harry gone mad?

"Yes," Harry said, nodding. "It gave me the sword."

He pointed, and my gaze followed his finger to a sword lying on the ground. It had an ornate golden handle, and a long blade of shining silver. It would have looked majestic, were it not for the crimson blood and green venom all over it.

There was silence for a few moments.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," Harry said, raising his voice so the two Weasleys would hear him.

* * *

We walked out of the Chamber. The second my foot crossed over the threshold and into the tunnel, I felt relief sweep through my body. Even with the Basilisk dead and Riddle destroyed, I still felt as though there was something sinister within the Chamber. It was as though evil ran through the towering walls, like blood through a person's veins.

The tunnel seemed much shorter on the way out than it had coming in. The intricate carvings of snakes and wizards on the walls went by in a blur, and before long we reached Lockhart's immobilised body. He was completely still, except for his eyes. He glared at us as we approached. I glared right back at him, and we walked past. We all wanted nothing more than to get out of this subterranean lair, and back into Hogwarts Castle; we would worry about Lockhart later.

Before long, we reached the pipe that had brought us down into the Chamber. I looked at it despairingly. It was a quick way into the tunnel, but as a way out, it was useless.

"Has anyone thought how we're going to get back up this?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. Ginny didn't say anything; she just kept on shivering and crying.

"It's impossible. We can't fly," I said.

Fawkes flew past us, then fluttered in the air in front of us. He looked at us, then up the pipe, then back at us.

"He looks like he wants you to grab hold..." Ron said, looking perplexed. "But you're much too heavy for a bird to pull up there."

"Fawkes isn't an ordinary bird," Harry said.

"Understatement," I muttered.

"We've got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron's hand. Matt, you hold Ginny's other hand," Harry said, tucking the sword and Sorting Hat into his belt.

I took hold of Ginny's warm hand, and gave it a comforting squeeze. Ginny smiled slightly, but it didn't last, and she started to cry again. Harry took hold of Fawkes, and the phoenix flapped its mighty wings. Harry lifted up into the air, pulling Ron up with him, and then Ginny, and then me. I felt as though I was drifting in zero gravity as I hurtled up the pipe, gripping on tightly to Ginny's hand. The pipe had seemed like a rollercoaster on the way down, and it was just as thrilling, if not more so, on the way back up. I almost regretted it when we emerged into the bathroom at the top.

"You're alive," a voice said from behind us.

I turned around to see Moaning Myrtle, the ghostly inhabitant of the school's bathrooms, floating just above the ground.

"There's no need to sound so disappointed," Harry said.

"Oh, well... I'd just been thinking... If you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, her cheeks turning silver.

"Urgh! Harry! I think Myrtle's grown fond of you! You've got competition, Ginny!" Ron said as we left the bathroom.

"Myrtle and Harry sitting in a toilet," I sang.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Ron sang.

Ron and I grinned at each other, while Harry blushed slightly. It felt good to be smiling again, after the hour of terror we had just gone through.

* * *

"Ginny!"

A plump, redheaded woman - Ginny's mum, probably - sprinted across the room and flung her arms around Ginny. A ginger man - Ginny's dad - followed her and joined the hug. We had just arrived in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece with a smile on his face. Professor McGonagall was standing next to him, gasping and clutching her chest. The two Weasley adults had been sitting in front of the fire, crying, before we had come in.

"You saved her! You saved her!" Mrs Weasley said, embracing Harry and Ron. "How did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," Professor McGonagall said.

Mrs Weasley came over to me next. "And you helped, young man?"

"Yes," I said.

Mrs Weasley hugged me as well. "Thank you."

Harry walked over to Dumbledore's desk, and laid three items on the table: the sword, the Sorting Hat, and the Diary. I took a long look at the Diary. It looked as though it had been burnt: it had been blackened and shrivelled up when the curse hit it. Everyone's attention turned to Harry as he began to tell the story of what had happened in the Chamber. No one else spoke; when Harry paused to think, the only sound was the crackling of the fire.

"Very well," McGonagall said when Harry stopped talking. He had reached the point where we entered the Chamber, and then stopped. "So you found out where the entrance was - breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add - but how on earth did you get out of there alive?"

"Who cares if we broke rules?" I said angrily. "We saved Ginny's life! We saved the school! And you're worrying about some broken rules?"

"Calm yourself, dear boy," Dumbledore said. "I think that in this instance, we can all agree that any rule-breaking was justified."

"I did not mean to say that you would be punished," McGonagall added.

"Right. Sorry," I said sheepishly, looking down at my feet.

"Mr Potter, if you would tell us what happened in the Chamber?" McGonagall prompted.

I could tell why Harry was hesitating. If he told the truth about the diary, Ginny could get in trouble. How could we prove that Ginny wasn't to blame with the diary destroyed?

"What interests me most," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling oddly as he looked at Harry, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania."

"W-What's that?" Mrs Weasley said, her voice shaking. "You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny's not... Ginny hasn't been... has she?"

"It was this diary," Harry said, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore took the diary and looked at it closely. "Brilliant. Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen."

Everyone, myself included, looked at Dumbledore with identical expressions of confusion on their faces.

"Very few people know," Dumbledore began, "that Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school... travelled far and wide... sank so deeply into the Dark Arts; consorted with the very worst of our kind; underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations; that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognisable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

"But, Ginny. What's our Ginny got to do with - with - him?" Mrs Weasley said.

"His d-diary!" Ginny sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year -"

"Ginny! Haven't I taught you anything? What have I always told you?" Mrs Weasley said. "Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. Why didn't you show -"

"Leave her alone!" I said. "She just went through hell, she doesn't need to be shouted at!"

Mrs Weasley looked angry for a moment, furious that a child would tell her what to do. But then my words sunk in, and she looked guilty.

"Sorry, dear," she said, hugging Ginny.

"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore said. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There shall be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up," he added, smiling kindly down at the sobbing girl. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice - I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."

"So Hermione's okay!" Ron said, grinning from ear to ear.

"And Colin!" I added. I couldn't wait for Colin to wake up. We had missed him a lot while he had been petrified.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," Dumbledore said comfortingly.

"You know, Minerva," Dumbeldore said, looking across at McGonagall as the Weasleys led their daughter away. "I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"

"Right. I'll leave you to deal with the boys, shall I?" McGonagall said.

"Certainly," said Dumbledore.

McGonagall left. It was just Dumbledore, and the three of us boys.

"I seem to remember telling you two, Potter and Weasley, that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules. Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore said. "All three of you will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and - let me see, yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor."

* * *

I didn't sleep well that night. From the moment my head hit the pillow, I was asleep, but it was not a peaceful sleep. The whole night, nightmares bombarded by mind. The towering walls of the Chamber, made of that dark stone that seemed to emanate evil. The poisonous fangs of the basilisk as it lunged towards me, it's jaws open and a hiss coming from its mouth. Riddle's face, shifting in an instant from handsome to serpentine and horrific, his eyes flashing red. It was still dark when I finally escaped from the torment and woke up.

No one else was awake in the dorm room, which was a relief. I loved my friends, but I didn't want to have to recount the events of last night to them - and they would almost certainly demand that I did. I decided to go for a walk to clear my head. I slipped into my robes, and then tiptoed out of the room, careful not to wake up any of my friends. I headed down the stairs and into the Gryffindor Common Room. No one was in there - only me and the crackling fire. I went through the portrait hole and out into the castle. The corridors were empty. It was very peaceful.

My mind had no idea where I was going, but my body did. My legs carried me through the castle, down twisting staircases and through long corridors, and before long, I found myself standing in a familiar spot. In front of me was the bathroom containing the entrance to the Chamber, and to my side was the wall containing the ominous red letters: 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'

I drew my wand, and murmured a spell. Golden paint sprayed from the end of my wand, and I carefully crossed out the word 'forever'.

"You were wrong, Riddle."


End file.
